


A Storied Kind of Romance

by njw



Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ancient Egyptian Curses, Batfamily Feels, Bodyswap, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Rating for Chapter 7, Fix-It, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Italian Mafia, JayTim Week, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, One Shot Collection, The Gigantic Polyamorous Marital Bed, Time Travel, Urban Fantasy, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: “Tim.” Bruce drags in a rough, choppy breath, trying and failing to get himself under control.“What have you done.”Tim tries to wiggle free, and Bruce’s grip just tightens as he presses a kiss first to one dark head, then the other.Well, at least if he’s kissing my head he’s probably notthatmad at me…He bites his lip. “Um. So. I might, possibly, okay definitely, have traveled back in time, and… stolen Jason?” Tim’s voice squeaks embarrassingly and he flushes.*Collection of oneshots written for theJaytim Week 2018 tumblr prompts.I don't have a tumblr but the prompts looked like fun, so… :D1. Magic // Sugar Daddy; 2. Time Travel // Heist; 3. Viking // Bare Skin; 4. College // Vegas Wedding; 5. FREE PROMPT DAY (Accidental Baby Acquisition // Clones); 6. Mafia // Bodyswap; 7. Alpha/Beta/Omega // Nightmares & Hallucinations; 8. Urban Fantasy // Blood Oath





	1. Magic // Sugar Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jay, you know… I’m not with you because you keep summoning all these nightmarish plagues of biblical proportions, or the constant lurking threat of you bringing down the apocalypse on Gotham through the dark powers of your unholy resurrection. And I’m _definitely_ not with you because you threatened to sacrifice Bruce to Anubis or whatever while you were still a raving nutcase because the way Ra’s brought you back combined explosively with your inherent latent and hitherto unknown magical powers to drive you literally crazy for a while.” 
> 
> Jason’s still staring at him uncertainly, so Tim rolls his eyes. “I _like_ you, okay?”  
> 

“Jason,” Tim says carefully, while pushing away one of the gigantic, bejeweled arms of his… hmm. Kidnapper? Seems a little harsh, and not totally accurate considering Tim’s been accompanying Jason voluntarily for a while now.

Mildly involuntary housemate? …Maybe. Resurrected undead admirer? Wait, no, that last one sounds _way_ the heck too much like Ra’s.

 _Ew._ Tim pauses his train of thought for a moment to cringe at the implications there. _Gross._

Ugh, fine. His _Jason._ Who seems to be in a relatively sane, stable state of mind lately, with one notable exception…

Which is why Tim figures it’s probably time for a confrontation.

_Welp, hopefully this intervention doesn’t end in ruin and tears._

_Jason really has been doing so much better though; he hasn’t lost control and accidentally summoned a magical plague in like, a whole day. And_ that _was just a minor little plague of darkness that didn’t even extend beyond Gotham. People thought it was an unscheduled eclipse._

 _Oh wait, I guess there was the plague of livestock boils this morning when Batcow mooed at him and he was super-startled to see a freaking_ cow _in the Cave. But he fixed it right away, and even grudgingly apologized to Batcow and the Demon Brat. He’s coming along great._

 _It’s just when it comes to_ Bruce _that he still has a lot of triggers. Understandably so._

Tim definitely doesn’t want to step right in the middle of the tense détente currently holding between Bruce and his second son, but it’s starting to look like _someone_ has to. Otherwise, Bruce might just never come out of the Cave again.

_Okay… Baby steps, self, don’t push Jason too fast too hard, or we’ll lose him again._

And even though they’ve only been together well under a month, Tim can’t even imagine his life without Jason at this point.

“Yeah Baby?” Jason looks at him expectantly, and Tim bites his lip nervously.

“Um. Jay. I’m here with you, we’re both safe, Alfred’s in the kitchen right now baking your favorite cookies to welcome you back home. So.” Tim lifts his brows hopefully. “Will you _please_ call off the rest of the plagues now?”

Jason, the smug asshole, just pulls Tim in closer against his naked, unfairly muscular chest, pressing him against the intricate tattoos on that lightly tanned skin and grinning like a bastard. “Why, Timbo,” he says, “If I do _that,_ then however can I be sure you’ll stay with me? After all, you only stuck around in the first place to help me get a handle on the fuckin’ magic and keep an eye on me while I was crazier than a bag of cats and plannin’ vengeance on basically everyone who looked at me funny.”

Tim starts to reply with something snarky, but then he catches sight of Jason’s face. The grin’s still in place, but there’s a tightness there, an unusual vulnerability in those bright teal eyes…

 _Oh, Jason._ Tim experiences a surge of sympathy and sorrow for the man before him, whose various parental figures all left or failed him one by one and whose childhood was so brutally ripped away from him. _Of_ course _Jason has abandonment issues. I should have realized._

Well, at least Tim can work to reassure him, now that he has a better understanding of what he’s dealing with here.

Tim winces at the thought of putting himself out there so completely, but Jason deserves to know how much he really cares.

“Jay, you know… I’m not with you because you keep summoning all these nightmarish plagues of biblical proportions, or the constant lurking threat of you bringing down the apocalypse on Gotham through the dark powers of your unholy resurrection. And I’m _definitely_ not with you because you threatened to sacrifice Bruce to Anubis or whatever while you were still a raving nutcase because the way Ra’s brought you back combined explosively with your inherent latent and hitherto unknown magical powers to drive you literally crazy for a while.”

Jason’s still staring at him uncertainly, so Tim rolls his eyes. “I _like_ you, okay?”

_Why is my life so embarrassing._

Jason shifts uncomfortably, big broad shoulders hunching in a little as he looks away, corners of his mouth tugging down. “I… really?” He swallows, deep voice soft with uncertainty. “I was such a jerk to you when I first came back, Baby Bird, I’d understand if you don’t wanna… I mean, I fuckin’ _kidnapped_ you. I basically _Stockholmed_ you into liking me.” He grimaces at the thought.

Tim leans back in Jason’s arms, huffing a little laugh. “Jay, I’ll admit you may have kidnapped me as part of an overly elaborate, insane plot to get revenge on the Joker for your murder and Batman for being an emotionally stunted douchecanoe of a father, but remind me. Think back. What _exactly_ did you do once you had me in your power?” He smirks.

Jason mumbles something indecipherable, blushing.

“What was that, Jay? Hmm, I couldn’t quite hear; did you just say that you tied me up, mistreated me in any way, or otherwise acted like an actual villain in any way, shape or form?” Tim rolls his eyes. “No, you didn’t, because that would be _lying.”_

Tim narrows his eyes and stares at Jason until the older boy finally bursts out, “I _—fuck,_ Timmy, I have no fuckin’ _clue_ how the hell you survived seventeen years on your own before I came back! You have the self-care habits of a goddamn drunken _toddler—”_

“Toddlers don’t survive on a combination of coffee and _spite,_ Jason—”

“And neither should _you!_ Why the fuck anyone thought it was a good idea for a kid like you to be _living on your own—”_

“Well, that just sort of happened? I mean, I don’t think anyone really _planned_ the whole thing—just, with B being fake-dead, and Ra’s going after Wayne Enterprises my becoming an emancipated minor made the most sense at the time—”

“No, I should fuckin’ well _hope_ no one planned that shit, because if Dickie and the brat shovin’ you outta the fuckin’ nest before you were ready was actually a goddamn thought-out _plan_ then the whole damn Bat family reputation for tactical brilliance is fuckin’ _bullshit—”_

“Well, _you’re_ the one who went and kidnapped the _wrong_ Robin trying to get the Bat’s attention—”

“And thank fuck for _that,_ otherwise I woulda been stuck with fuckin’ _Demon Brat_. Ain’t my fault my info was a little outta date. A lot of shit went down real fast.” Jason pauses, shuddering, presumably at the thought of having to spend an extended length of time with the furious little gremlin. “And you woulda been fuck knows where after Dickhead took your cape, grievin’ and runnin’ around after clues about B and getting into god knows what kinda trouble on your own.”

Tim winces. “I would have been _fine—”_

“ _Fuckin’ Ra’s_ was right on your goddamn tail when I picked you up, Baby Bird! That leathery old asshat is _bad_ news, okay? I ain’t even gonna get _started_ on how fucked up it is he _wants your damn body—”_

Tim’s entire being shudders in visceral revulsion at that. “Oh my god Jay, do you _have_ to phrase it like that? He just wants to… possess me?” He frowns, tilting his head consideringly as his brows draw together in thought. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, there _is_ no good way to phrase that.” He pouts.

Jason sighs, tugging Tim close again and pressing the smaller boy’s head to his chest. “You don’t know how fuckin’ grateful I am I found you before that sicko got his claws in you, Baby.” He presses a soft kiss to Tim’s hair. “Asshole definitely had no fuckin’ clue what hell he was callin’ down on himself, resurrecting _me.”_

Tim smiles up at Jason. “Well, it’s not like he _knew_ you were a reincarnation of a former Egyptian high priest. Or that when your repressed magic combined with that of the Lazarus Pit, you’d rise as a semi-omnipotent magical being capable of calling down hordes of locusts, frogs, and biting insects instantaneously. Not to mention the whole turning _water into blood_ thing.”

“Heh,” Jason chuckles involuntarily. “You shoulda seen the look on Ra’s al Ghul’s face when I called down the biting insects and fiery hail. Hard to look intimidating and badass when you’re covered in fuckin’ biting and stinging insects and all your assassins are hoppin’ around screaming about the bugs in their clothes while dodging flaming balls of destruction falling from the sky.”

Tim shakes his head, fighting a smile. “Still. You’ve had the plague of locusts going in the Manor for over a week now, and they’re getting kind of annoying. Don’t you think it’s time to give it a rest?” Seeing Jason waver, he presses on coaxingly. “Alfred doesn’t deserve to have to deal with that.”

Jason shakes his head. “Naw, it’s not throughout the whole Manor, I wouldn’t do that to Alfie. They’re confined to the Cave.”

Where Bruce is brooding, and has been since he returned from being lost in time and found out Jason came back to life in his absence, gained superhuman abilities to literally raise hell, and somehow acquired Tim when the younger boy was basically kicked out of the family.

It would be kind of a lot to deal with for _anyone,_ let alone someone with the emotional capacity of a particularly aggressive walnut.

Still, that doesn’t excuse his reaction; being an ass about Jason acting up a bit, and then trying to beat him up instead of help him actually deal with the trauma of his horrific death and resurrection was not the right response to Bruce’s beloved _son_ coming back from the _dead._

_No wonder Jay’s still a little bitter. Why is B such an ass._

Tim tilts his head, considering Jason’s point of view. He imagines Bruce brooding picturesquely, as is his wont, perhaps strikingly silhouetted against the darkness of the Cave, and then ruining all the mystique by sneezing and batting angrily as a giant locust crawls across his face.

_Heh. I might actually pay to see that._

“Oh.” Tim smiles a little. “Still, maybe something a little less destructive than locusts? I’m pretty sure they’ve been eating through some of the backup suits and supplies down there, which is not cool. Locusts are indiscriminate assholes, Jay, they’re not just gonna focus on B’s stuff.”

Jason rolls his eyes. _“Fine,”_ he says with a longsuffering air like Tim just demanded a huge favor instead of politely asking him to call off his magical swarm of insect-driven desolation. He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating, and then opens them with a slow smirk Tim doesn’t trust for a _second._ “All done, Baby Bird.” Jason’s voice is way too innocent to go with his smug expression.

Tim eyes him with gathering suspicion. “Jason… what did you do?” He actually _really_ doesn’t want to know, but a certain lingering sense of responsibility drives him to ask.

“Oh, I just called down the plague of biting insects instead. Did you know, I’m getting better at this shit. Turns out I can narrow it down to just a couple types of biting insect, _and_ target it directly at just one guy.” And Jason grins like a bastard as a muffled, distant shout echoes up from the Cave.

Tim closes his eyes.

 _Oh god this is_ so _not going to end well…_

“Seriously, Jay, what did you do to Bruce?” Tim swallows, hoping he hasn’t accidentally re-escalated the only recently settled upon truce between Jason and the Bat, and Jason scoffs, shaking his head fondly.

“Don’t look at me like that, Baby, it’s not like I called down the fuckin’ fiery hail on his head or anything. B’s alright. I mean, he _will_ be, once he deals with one _hell_ of a case of crabs—”

_“Oh my god.”_

_Ew. Also, holy shit, mental note—Jason is_ vicious _when he has a grudge._

“Relax, Timbo, the old man’s gonna be just fine. Nothin’ a little over the counter treatment won’t take care of.” Clearly dismissing the matter from his mind, Jason grins, golden bracelets and necklaces glinting as he moves. “Now that _that’s_ settled, you wanna practice kissing some more? Or we could maybe go out to dinner at one of those really fancy restaurants—”

_Well, at least it isn’t life threatening. Horrific as it is, pubic lice is still worlds better than pointing a gun or trying to blow him up._

_Baby steps._ Tim nods decisively, and then considers Jason’s suggestions.

“Um, both those things sound good. Only… are you planning to change into something a little less… ancient Egyptian chic first?”

Tim eyes Jason’s garb; the fine transparent linen and heavy golden jewelry is sexy as hell on him, but doesn’t really fit the dress code for the kind of place he thinks Jason has in mind.

Jason rolls his eyes. “You think I’m still wearin’ this shit because I _want_ to? Haven’t really figured that part out yet, actually,” he admits ruefully.

Tim blinks, thinking back over their time together and huh, yeah, he hasn’t actually seen Jason wearing anything other than the ancient Egyptian garb that apparently appeared on his body as he was resurrected, providing a startled Ra’s his first clue that his attempt to bring the former Robin back from the dead for his own undisclosed but probably nefarious purposes was doomed to explosive failure.

“I thought you just really liked the pharaoh look.” Tim tilts his head. “So you can’t take it off?” He frowns. “…How do you shower?”

“Oh, I _can_ take it off; it just comes right back. And the shower thing’s fine, this shit magically dries or whatever the second I step out.” Jason fiddles with the hem of his fine linen robe awkwardly.

“…Comes back?” At Tim’s inquiringly raised brow, Jay shrugs and removes a heavy gold bracelet, handing it to Tim who examines it, then jerks in surprise as another identical bracelet immediately forms around Jason’s wrist.

“On the bright side, infinite free gold, so we’ll never be poor?” Jay gives him a lopsided grin. “I can be your sugar daddy, Baby,” he wheedles coaxingly.

Tim can’t suppress a smothered giggle at Jason’s ridiculousness before he frowns again, eying the bracelet thoughtfully. “We’ll have to be careful not to flood the market.” He blinks. “So wait, you’re just stuck wearing all that forever? That seems… kind of uncomfortable.”

Jay huffs a laugh. “Naw, I’ll figure the magic side of things out eventually. I mean, I think I’ve already made some pretty good progress getting a handle on the whole vengeance-and-retribution curse bullshit that came with my resurrection, and _before_ doing anything I’d really regret.” He cuddles Tim a little closer. “Thanks again, by the way, for getting my head on straight and helpin’ me with all that.”

“Of course. Although I think you pretty much did that for yourself? Like, that was the gentlest, most considerate kidnapping I’ve ever experienced. You basically just took care of me and we watched a lot of Netflix to catch you up on shows you missed, between you teaching me to cook and playing computer games while researching ancient Egyptian curses and resurrections, and gathering evidence of Bruce being lost in time. You’re actually pretty much the nicest attempted villain I’ve ever met.”

“What, less threatening than _Condiment Man?”_ Jason looks and sounds pretty insulted, which, fair enough. _Condiment Man._

“Well, I mean, he got ketchup in B’s _eye_ once, so he actually managed to cause a lot more damage than you—”

“I was fuckin’ _distracted,_ okay, it’s hard to rain down havoc and terror on a paranoid asshole like the fuckin’ _Bat_ when you’re busy tryin’ to take care of an accident prone, adorable little _disaster of a human being_ who you accidentally kidnapped thinkin’ someone would actually fuckin’ _notice and be upset about it—”_

Tim gasps, stricken by the reminder that no one in the family even realized he was missing after Jason grabbed him. That… that had _sucked,_ although Jason’s awkward, bumbling attempts to comfort him in the aftermath pretty much evaporated the last boundaries of suspicion and mistrust between them.

It kind of stopped being a kidnapping pretty quickly after that.

Jason catches the quickly hidden hurt on Tim’s face and breaks off immediately, cursing under his breath as he presses apologetic kisses to Tim’s brow, his forehead, and his cheeks, squeezing him reassuringly close. _“Fuck,_ I’m sorry, Timmy. That was a shitty thing to say, and fuckin’ _wrong._ They all love you, they do, things were just in a real fuckin’ mess back then and—”

“Yeah.” Tim pushes the sorrow away, wrapping himself instead in the warm reassurance of his boyfriend’s presence as well as the knowledge of how horrible the rest of the Bats felt once they realized he’d been essentially kidnapped for eleven days before anyone even noticed.

And if Jason hadn’t felt bad for Tim during the whole kidnapping fiasco once he realized no one was ever going to come for him, and then gotten all indignant and protective on Tim’s behalf, the older boy probably wouldn’t have gotten started on the path to redemption.

So it’s a good thing, really.

It’s _good_ that Dick was too wrapped up in Damian and the whole clusterfuck surrounding Bruce’s ‘death’ to even notice Tim getting grabbed by some random, suspiciously well-trained guy while traveling the world searching for evidence of Bruce being alive.

Really.

…Even though it still stings like hell.

“Don’t worry about it, Jay.” Tim takes a slow, deep breath, letting some of the hurt go. It _does_ help that the rest of the family has made it clear they love and value him, and regret ever making him feel otherwise.

_Hmm. I should probably feel bad that I take such vindictive pleasure in the way Dick looks like he’s about to cry from guilt every time he sees me._

Tim smirks, then tones it down when Jason looks mildly alarmed at his expression.

Jason sighs, tugging Tim over to the couch and settling down with his little boyfriend curled comfortably in his lap. “Everything’s a goddamn mess, but the one thing I’m never gonna regret is you, Baby. You really… okay with this?” He gestures between them, looking nervous and hopeful at the same time.

And Tim knows exactly how to answer _that._ “Jason, I’ve basically had a crush on you since before I knew what crushes _are._ You’re funny, badass, and hot like the sun, not to mention you have godlike powers and can rain down scorpions on my enemies. Ra’s _hates_ you, but he’s also terrified of you and way the hell less likely to carry me off to enact his dastardly plans now that I’m with you.”

He bites back a grin. “Plus, I think it makes B and Dick throw up in their mouths a little every time they see us together.” He shakes his head. “It’s so weird. I wasn’t even part of the family at the same time you were; for all my stalking when we were kids, we just met for the first time when you kidnapped me. It’s kinda low-key hilarious they obviously think of us as brothers somehow and us being a couple is creeping them out.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “Fuck yeah it is. But if they got an issue with us, that’s their problem, not ours.” Jason lifts a brow, then shrugs. “Maybe we’ll hafta talk about that shit eventually. Or we can just take horrible advantage of their reaction by kissing in front of them at every opportunity.” He grins, and it’s completely obvious which option he’ll always, _always_ choose.

Tim doesn’t have a problem with that, actually. _If this is the form Jason’s vengeance against the Bats takes now that he’s sane, they should be grateful. After all, it could be_ so much worse.

He indulges himself by taking a moment to remember the look of sheer horror and betrayal on Dick’s face when he walked in on them earlier. They’d actually just been sparring, but it was pretty clear Dick had thought they were doing something quite a bit more _involved._

Thinking back, they _had_ been rolling around on the mats with Jason wrapped around Tim, clutching him from behind, sweaty and panting and locked together in a rear naked choke. There might even have been some grunting and gasping involved.

And then a few really lewd, extremely suggestive moans once Jason noticed Dick watching them in stunned horror, because Jason’s a complete ass like that. Dick’s mortified retreat was absolutely hilarious, although Tim should probably feel at least a little bad about the way his big brother was whimpering in distress as he fled.

_Heh._

Not for the first time, Tim considers the possibility he might not be a very good person.

He blinks back to the present and focuses on Jason, who’s talking again and rubbing a companionable hand on Tim’s back to get his attention. “I swear, I’ll figure out the clothes thing at some point, Baby Bird. And so what if I’m apparently stuck with these infinitely renewable gold bracelets and shit for the foreseeable future, at least I’ll always be able to maintain you in the fancy-ass richboy style to which you are accustomed.” He smiles dopily down at Tim.

Tim smirks, snorting. “You really wanna be my sugar daddy, Jay?”

The idea is strangely appealing, even though it’s not like he actually needs the money. It’s more the thought of Jason wanting to _keep_ him that has his heart thumping fast in his chest.

“Oh fuck yeah. Gonna take _good_ care of you, Baby.” Jason gives Tim an exaggerated leer and Tim crosses his arms, trying not to blush. It doesn’t work out very well.

It’s no help that he really, _really_ likes the idea of Jason _taking care_ of him.

Well. Maybe later. They still haven’t even been on an actual date, after all. “Um.” Tim blushes harder and Jason’s expression softens as he presses a careful kiss to Tim’s cheek, stroking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Guess we’ll figure that shit out later, too. But for now… you wanna call in some takeout, have a night in together?”

Tim lets out a soft sigh as he nestles deeper into Jason’s arms. “Sounds good, Jay.” Another muffled shout sounds from the Cave, and Tim sighs. “Did you just…?”

Jason only looks slightly repentant, responding with a righteous, “Was just practicing my control, Timbo! How’m I ever gonna get a handle on my freaky magic bullshit if I don’t practice?”

“What did you do this time?” Tim really, _really_ doesn’t want to know. The sound of Bruce roaring faintly in the distance is… not promising.

“…Chiggers in the Batsuit.” Jason doesn’t even pretend to feel bad about what he’s done.

 _And_ Jason’s not meeting his eyes, so Tim lifts an admonishing brow. “And…?” He drawls slowly, hoping against hope Jason isn’t about to admit something terrible.

“…I mighta turned the glass of water he was about to drink into blood?”

“Oh my god.” _So gross._ Tim makes a disgusted face.

“I changed it back before he actually drank any!” Jason says defensively.

_Baby steps. It could totally have been so much worse…_

“Oh, well that’s all right then.” Tim pulls out his phone and starts to put together their order. “Thai okay?”

They both ignore the sounds of feet stomping up the stairs and Bruce grumbling angrily to himself before irritably asking Alfred where they keep the bug spray. Jason grins widely, clearly delighted.

“Fuck yeah Baby Bird, gimme some of that spicy green curry.”

Tim snickers and places the order, smiling and curling tighter into his boyfriend’s arms while Jason grabs the remote to turn on another one of the numerous shows he missed out on, pressing a careful kiss to Tim’s hair as it starts to play.

He runs his big, warm fingers gently through Tim’s hair and the smaller boy slowly melts into a relaxed, blissful puddle at the treatment.

 _Best kidnapping_ ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, asking out of sense of duty but clearly not actually caring:** “Yo Jason you wanna maybe think about not calling any more plagues down on B?”*Yawns, idly plays with Jason’s hair*  
>  **Jason, smirking and twirling a solid gold bracelet like a boss:** “Naw” *Calls down a dozen more plagues on Bruce just because he can*  
>  **Bruce, roaring in fury and shame as plagues of unmentionable insects bite his unmentionables:** “JAAAASONNNNN!!!!” *Rips off Batsuit, succumbs to furious itching*  
>  **Tim, shrugging dismissively:** “Eh, so long as it isn’t the hellfire or death of the firstborn plagues I’m gonna call it a win” *Smiles at Jason approvingly*  
>  **Jason, beaming at Tim:** “Just for you, Baby” *Cuddles Tim close on the couch and kisses him just in time for Bruce to walk by, spot them together, and pass out due to horror and dismay at sight of sons making out*  
>  **Alfred, stoically dragging an unconscious Bruce upstairs:** *Narrows eyes at seething swarm of biting insects covering Bruce* “Oh, dear. I suppose a trip to the pharmacy is in order.” *Uses secret ninja-butler powers, projects maximum guilt trip toward Jason*  
>  **Jason, jerking upright in terror:** “Oh SHIT sorry Alfie! Please don’t take away my cookies!” *Immediately removes all plagues, gratefully accepts cookie bribes* “Thanks, Alfie!”


	2. Time Travel // Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tim.” Bruce drags in a rough, choppy breath, trying and failing to get himself under control. _“What have you done.”_
> 
> Tim tries to wiggle free, and Bruce’s grip just tightens as he presses a kiss first to one dark head, then the other. _Well, at least if he’s kissing my head he’s probably not_ that _mad at me…_
> 
> He bites his lip. “Um. So. I might, possibly, okay definitely, have traveled back in time, and… stolen Jason?” Tim’s voice squeaks embarrassingly and he flushes.

Tim barely breathes as he waits, frozen in place while the Joker’s mad laughter tears through the silent night air and echoes down the frozen mountainside like gunshots.

He can hear Jason’s soft grunts and stifled cries, and the muffled, dull thuds of the crowbar striking home. Repressing his sympathetic flinches is becoming progressively harder with the sound of each blow landing. This is like a scene from his nightmares, but it’s all too real.

 _God, he’s hurting him so_ bad, _and I’m right here—_

Tim’s teeth clench in protective fury for the other Robin, _Jason,_ as he uses every ounce of self-control he’s ever possessed to just _hold still, it’s not time yet, the_ only _way this will work is if I make myself_ wait _until Joker leaves—_

But it’s _so hard_ to remember the plan when Jason’s suffering, in _agony_ and so afraid, so _alone,_ and Tim’s just standing here uselessly, close enough to help but bound by logic and consequence to be a passive bystander.

Standing there listening to Jason’s agony is the most difficult challenge Tim’s ever faced in his life, and he’s _Robin._ He’s sacrificed everything, survived so _much_ , and the hardest test he’s ever faced is happening in this moment, right now, having to do _nothing_ as his fellow vigilante is beaten nearly to death not twenty feet away.

Finally, _finally,_ the Joker’s voice recedes, the insane villain still cackling crazily and cracking terrible jokes that fill Tim with a black rage. He notices distantly that his limbs are trembling slightly but dismisses it as unimportant.

Tim forces himself to wait the full three minutes he previously calculated as necessary before he leaps into motion, using the tools he brought with him to get through the door and then diving forward to kneel before a startled, wounded Jason who is currently in the process of dragging himself across the floor, away from the bomb they can both see ticking quietly down in the dimly lit warehouse behind him.

 _Holy shit it’s_ Jason, _it’s really him. Oh god he has to be in so much_ pain…

As Jason opens his bruised mouth, probably about to ask a million questions they don’t have time for, Tim hurries to cut him off, holding his hands up in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and speaking softly to avoid alarming the other boy even more.

“Time travel, I’m here to save you, please please _please_ just let me get you the hell out of here before you start interrogating me. Please.” He’s aware that he’s literally begging by the end, but really, if Jason tries to fight him, it’ll slow them down, maybe endanger both their lives, not to mention risk injuring Jason even _more-_

And Jason’s in no state to sustain further injuries. God, he’s been hurt so _badly—_

As Jason hesitates, Tim peels off the mask, wondering belatedly if seeing someone else in his costume is more than the other boy can take right now. “I’m so sorry, I know it must be really weird seeing me in this uniform, but I _swear_ it’s still yours, I’ve just been a placeholder but I’m not enough, everyone misses you so _much._ I—Jason, _please—”_

Dimly, Tim is aware he’s babbling. He’s probably going to be really embarrassed about that later, once he has time to think about anything but his self-appointed mission to save Jason.

But now Jason’s reaching a shaky, hesitant hand to the other boy’s face, just barely grazing Tim’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“Kid,” he breathes, recognition in his eyes. “You’re that fuckin’ little kid with the camera who follows us around.” He frowns. “But you’re just a baby. Why…?” His dazed blue eyes sharpen and track over Tim again, clearly taking in his complete attire this time. He stares at the R on Tim’s chest for a long moment before shaking his head, then wincing in pain at the movement.

“Fuckin’ _time travel,_ Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Shit. Okay, however the fuck a tiny little kid like _you_ ended up in the suit must be one hell of a story, and I wanna hear all about _that_ when we have time.” Jason huffs as he reaches for Tim, allowing the shorter boy to pull him up and half-carry, half-drag him out the door.

He continues grumbling under his breath, clutching at Tim who is frantically stumbling forward as fast as he can. “The fuck happened, I fucked up and B just grabbed hold of the nearest black-haired kid and crammed him in the fuckin’ suit? Gonna give B a piece of my mind for that, tiny little thing like you shoulda never been put in danger like that.”

Tim barely hears him, all his focus on _moving_ as he gets them as far away from the warehouse as they can manage before the muffled boom and wave of heat bring the place down.

Jason finally falls silent, maybe stunned by how _close_ he came to being trapped in that godforsaken warehouse when it went up in flames.

“Hold on,” Tim whispers, carefully lowering Jason to the ground before hurrying back to his earlier hiding spot to retrieve the fake replica of Jason’s body and plant it in the wreckage. It looks _exactly_ like the living boy, down to the cuts on his cheek.

 _Magic is really,_ really _creepy,_ Tim thinks as he darts back toward where he left the actual not-dead Jason Todd, who is blinking bemusedly after him and clearly suffering the effects of his various injuries.

 _I wonder if I should be worried about the fact a Chaos Lord decided helping me bring back Jason Todd was a great idea. It kinda bodes ill for the results of this endeavor._ He mentally shrugs. _Whatever, Klarion owed me the favor and this is what I chose, for better or worse. I’m not gonna regret it now._

Tim can hear Batman’s motorcycle roaring up the mountain, and to keep the timeline intact, they need to be _gone_ before the Bat arrives. Tim doesn’t even want to _think_ about the potential consequences if they get caught and alter the timeline.

Running the rest of the way back to Jason, Tim grabs hold of him, gathering him close as gently as possible in consideration of his battered state, and then triggers the return on the device just in time.

Heart in his throat, he hears the motorcycle engine cut off and squeezes his eyes closed in helpless guilt as the very beginning of Batman’s agonized cry for his beloved son assaults his ears before the world around them warps and he’s back in the Cave, _his_ Cave, his arms wrapped around a very much _alive_ Jason Todd.

_Holy shit. I can’t believe that just happened._

“Oh my god,” Tim whispers in disbelief, a little shaky and a lot stunned. “It _worked,”_ he breathes, staring at the taller boy in his arms.

Jason’s looking around, blinking in shock and confusion and obviously having trouble clinging to consciousness. “Wait, what? How’d we get here? Where’s B? The fuck is that fuckin’ case over there? Is that _my uniform?”_

Tim bites his lip, knowing the moment of truth is at hand and dreading the fallout of his actions.

_I did what I had to, and I can’t regret that. Only… I hope he doesn’t hate me for it._

His gaze travels over the vivid, bewildered and slightly suspicious face of a _living_ Jason Todd, and his momentary panic settles.

 _Even if he does hate me for it, even if they_ all _do, I know it was still worth it, to bring him back and_ save _him._

It’s still unreasonably hard to open his mouth and start talking under the steady regard of those blue, blue eyes. “Um, so I guess explanations are in order? Hi, I’m Tim. Um, Tim Drake. From next door? That’s not important. Anyway, in the original timeline, you, uh, you died in that explosion.”

Tim winces at Jason’s soft gasp and hurries on. “Bruce and Dick and Alfred mourned you, they were all so _sad_ and guilty and sorry. B just about had a psychotic break he was so agonized by your death.”

Jason’s looking at Tim’s uniform again, brows lowering as he clearly draws some unpalatable conclusions. “Right, and that’s why you’re wearing my uniform. Because he obviously missed me so fuckin’ much.” He sounds angry, but there’s an undertone of _hurt_ that makes Tim’s heart spasm.

 _Oh no, that’s not how it was—how can I make him_ see—

Tim shakes his head frantically. “B never wanted another Robin after you, so I… I’d already figured out his identity, so I basically blackmailed him with it. I became Robin to try to keep him from getting himself killed or killing innocents. It worked, but he misses you, they _all_ still miss you _so much,_ and you’re so good, you shouldn’t have been hurt like that, shouldn’t have _died._ You deserved so much better than what happened to you—”

To his horror, his voice goes hoarse and breaks, and he can’t continue speaking around the lump in his throat. His eyes are hot and stinging, and he sniffles wetly and rubs at them to try to stop the tears. “I saved Batman, but I really wanted to save you too. You deserve to be saved, Jason.”

His voice trails off in a whisper and he wraps his arms around his middle, trying to hold himself together.

Jason’s just staring at him, blinking in what Tim’s hoping is surprise and not another symptom of the concussion the older boy’s almost certainly sporting. “…So what I’m getting from this is at some point after you became Robin you decided to go and figure out time travel, secretly went on your own to fuckin’ rescue me, and what, changed the whole goddamn _timeline_ for me?”

He shakes his head incredulously. “That’s… _fuck,_ that’s real sweet of you, kid, but if you’re trained by the Bat you fuckin’ _know_ better. Can’t risk the timeline over one life. You gotta send me back, who knows what the fuck you’ve already messed up with this stunt. For one thing, without a body there’s no fuckin’ way B ever gave up lookin’ for me.”

Jason runs a hand through his hair, huffing. “If we go up there and find out the earth is now ruled by fuckin’ _mole people_ or some shit, I’m blamin’ you!” He shakes his finger in Tim’s face as Tim’s mouth drops open in surprise, then breaks into a smile as a small giggle escapes him.

Tim clears his throat and shakes his head. _I guess Jason was too out of it to notice me tossing the decoy into the fire._ “Actually, I had a really elaborate plan to protect the timeline, so… no worries about evil mole people overlords or anything like that. Um, to start with, there _was_ a body?”

“Fuckin’ _what?”_

“I managed to… _acquire…_  a decent fake. Klarion owed me a favor because I kind of ended up saving Teekl once, don’t ask, it was a strange mission. Anyway, he gave me a single use round trip time travel device and made me a perfect copy of your dead body, injuries and everything, so there would be no reason for even _B_ to be suspicious of it.”

Tim smiles and shrugs. “And with that in the warehouse for B to find, everything would fall into place just like in the original timeline. No evidence of anything being changed. So you’ll be okay to stay here, no worries about crazy consequences to the timeline or becoming your own grandfather or whatever.” Tim blushes. “Uh, not that _that_ would have been a possible consequence anyway, considering the type and magnitude of time travel involved…”

“Kid.” Jason’s still staring at Tim, but there’s a lurking smile growing on his face. “Slow the fuck down and take a breath once in a while, you’re gonna pass the fuck out otherwise and I’m in no shape right now to drag your skinny little ass to a med cot.”

There’s acceptance and kindness in his eyes as he regards Tim, and it makes Tim feels warm, right down to his toes.

 _He isn’t mad at me,_ a happy, embarrassingly _young_ little voice whispers in his mind. _Jason doesn’t hate me!_

Tim exhales slowly, finally allowing himself to smile back as he releases the tension and worry he’s been carrying through all the weeks of meticulous planning and scheming leading up to this venture. “The only difference between the timelines is you’re alive now,” he whispers, reaching out and shyly, gently touching Jason’s hand, which turns automatically to curl around Tim’s.

“Well fuck,” Jason whispers faintly, mouth hanging open slightly as he stares down at their hands, apparently struck by the sheer magnitude of everything that’s just happened to him. “Uh, thanks, kid.”

 _“Jason?”_ They both turn to the stairs, where Bruce stands frozen, face white as he stares down at his dead son, an expression of painful hope at war with the suspicion clouding his face.

“Hey B,” Jason manages, voice choked. “Your new brat’s somethin’ else. Uh, got any bandaids?” He rolls his shoulders and winces. “Joker’s got a mean forehand.” He grimaces. “Mean backhand, too.”

Tim crosses his arms over his chest and frowns darkly. “Mean _everything.”_ His eyes narrow as he idly toys with plans to deal with the Joker without crossing any of Batman’s prescribed lines.

_Maybe I can have him sent to the Phantom Zone, or get him imprisoned on another planet. Jason shouldn’t have to deal with knowing the Joker is still around. I don’t want him to always have to be afraid._

Tim tilts his head consideringly. _Well, there’s time. I can always do Klarion another favor to deal with it, I guess. Maybe cat-sit Teekl…_

His attention is drawn back to the unfolding drama as Bruce _moves._

The man blinks, then very deliberately makes his way down the stairs without taking his eyes off Jason once.

Bruce continues moving toward Tim and Jason in silence until he’s right in front of the boys, who both tense slightly at his approach. He then stuns them both when his legs buckle and he falls to his knees before them with a strangled sob, his arms snaking out to clutch the two teens and pull them both to him in a shaky embrace.

“Tim.” Bruce drags in a rough, choppy breath, trying and failing to get himself under control. _“What have you done?”_

Tim tries to wiggle free, and Bruce’s grip just tightens as he presses a kiss first to one dark head, then the other. _Well, at least if he’s kissing my head he’s probably not_ that _mad at me…_

He bites his lip. “Um. So. I might, possibly, okay definitely, have traveled back in time, and… stolen Jason?” Tim’s voice squeaks embarrassingly and he flushes.

Bruce’s mouth actually drops open slightly in an unusual show of surprise. “You _stole Jason.”_ He continues to stare at Tim as though willing him to say something that will make sense of this situation.

Tim smiles weakly and tries to shrug but is defeated by the strength of Bruce’s grip. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?” He tries.

Bruce stares at him mutely and Tim continues, defensively, “I have a powerpoint and everything! The data supports my decision; the list of pros _massively_ outweighs the cons! I made charts—”

Bruce just sighs, a tiny smile fighting to break free as his arms tighten even more around them both. “Later.”

“Uh, so this is nice and all, but seriously, you guys got any bandaids around here? Cause I think I’m gonna pass out in a minute—” Jason’s voice breaks them free of the emotional moment and Tim jerks, eyes flying back to the other boy and widening as he remembers Jason’s numerous untreated injuries.

“Oh _god,_ I’m so sorry Jason—” Tim breaks free of the hug and rushes to a nearby table, where he has supplies neatly laid out to deal with all of Jason’s known injuries. “I’ll call Alfred down, he’ll be _so_ happy to know you’re back—”

*

Jason relaxes in his dad’s firm grip and watches the slim, pretty, adorably awkward teen hurrying efficiently around the Cave. “He’s cute,” he breathes, gaze locked on the sweet, scary-smart enigma of a boy who apparently took his place, only to go way the hell outta his way to give it back to him.

“Hn.” Jason’s eyes grow wide as Bruce’s narrow, glancing back and forth speculatively between the two boys.

_Oh fuck I said that shit out loud. Goddamn concussion. Goddamn piece of shit Joker and his goddamn fuckin’ crowbar fetish…_

Jason’s face heats up as Bruce tilts his head to regard him with interest and smug amusement. “Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to say that shit out loud. You wanna maybe forget I said that, B?”

Bruce smirks, the shadow of old sorrow in his eyes growing lighter the longer he looks at his son. “I suppose in light of your current injuries, we can wait until you are recovered before I subject you to the slideshow.”

_Oh you bastard._

Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, _what._ I don’t fuckin’ _need_ the slideshow, B, I _know_ the facts of life—”

“Then it will serve as a reminder.” Bruce smiles briefly at Jason’s expression, then closes his eyes. “Please, son. Just… let me keep you safe.” And his strong arms tighten convulsively around Jason again, like he’s afraid someone will try to rip him away.

Well, fuck. Jason has nothing to say to that; the boy stares at Bruce mutely as the older man lightly strokes his son’s hair.

“Jason,” Bruce whispers. “I do not yet fully understand _how_ you are here again _,_ but this… _you_ are a miracle, and I will not waste this second chance.” He carefully strokes Jason’s hair, cradling his head in his hand. _“Thank you,_ son, for coming back to me.”

They both catch sight of Tim, shuffling awkwardly nearby with his arms full of bandages. “Um, I can give you guys a minute—” He starts to step backward, face tilted down like he thinks he’s intruding.

_Well that ain’t gonna stand. That kid’s obviously a fuckin’ Bat, he belongs here just as much as I do._

“Get over here, Baby Bird.” Jason extends his good arm to tug the smaller boy back into the group hug, and if this time the younger boy is pressed right up against Jason, well, neither of them seems to have a problem with that.

But feeling the slim body pressed up against his own reminds him of a grievance he’s wanted to air since the minute he recognized the quiet little kid who used to follow them around on patrol in his successor. “Fuck, B, how could you make this kid Robin? He’s so fuckin’ _tiny,_ grief-induced psychotic break or not I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to let him out on the streets. I just wanna feed him a million sandwiches and wrap him up in a blanket.”

Bruce lets out a shuddering sigh as he and Tim finally draw back from the hug and begin to administer first aid and highly welcome pain relief for Jason’s injuries. “It’s a long story, Jason. Tim is… something of a force of nature.”

Jason snorts, relaxing in the safe feeling of being surrounded by people who care about him, in the place that will always be _home_ for him. “Yeah, I’m startin’ to see that.”

He watches Tim some more, eyes growing hazy again as sleep beckons and his exhausted, battered body loses steam. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ a hell of a lot more.” He gives a lopsided grin at the thought.

_My Baby Bird’s a fuckin’ pretty little thing, ain’t he. Looks real fuckin’ good in that Robin costume, too. Wonder if I could get him to try on the panties for me sometime, bet he’d look real good in those too…_

The last thing he sees as he falls asleep is the pretty blush on Tim’s startled face, huge eyes staring at Jason as a cute little embarrassed smile starts to twitch at the corners of his mouth seemingly against his will.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Tim whispers as Jason drifts off. “Well I guess that explains why Bruce is queuing up his horrible slideshow full of graphic depictions of sexually transmitted diseases and injuries related to freak sex accidents. Ugh, _so_ not looking forward to the next few hours…”

A gentle hand brushes his hair back from his forehead and he’s not quite sure if he’s dreaming when he hears the next bit. “Whatever. You’re worth it, Jay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Bruce, staring in frozen shock at sight of dead son in the Cave:** “Great I’m hallucinating again. Hallucination-Tim, help me synthesize the antidote to whatever it is I’m drugged with” *Sighs, prepares to collect blood sample from self*  
>  **Tim, preemptively taking shelter behind a beat-up Jason:** “Um actually I sorta time travelled and what you’re seeing is real please don’t hurt me” *Cringes in fear*  
>  **Jason, bleeding but badass:** “Hey B don’t hurt the kid. Also you owe me a shitload of back-allowance for all the time I was dead” *Edges protectively in front of Tim while obviously checking younger boy out and liking what he sees*  
>  **Bruce, ignoring everything else to zero in on signs of son exhibiting incipient crush:** *Whips out horribly explicit sex-ed slideshow* “Welcome back, son—wait, why are you running away? I just want you to be saaaafe! JAAAASON!”  
>  **Jason, hobbling away at top speed and dragging a confused Tim along with him:** “Oh fuck I changed my mind PLEASE SEND ME BACK!” *Claws at Cave walls in attempt to flee slideshow of doom*  
>  **Tim, staring at slideshow in mesmerized horror:** “OH MY GOD I AM NEVER HAVING SEX”  
>  **Jason, furious at being cockblocked forever:** “Dammit B!” *Glares at Bruce who is smirking at success of his plan* “Just for that I’m gonna flirt with Timmy in front of you for absolutely ever”  
>  **Bruce, realizing too late the folly of his hubris:** “Curses” *Turns away, only to see Jason and Tim enthusiastically kissing* “Fml”


	3. Viking // Bare Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bruce, what the _hell,”_ Dick is covering his eyes with one hand and trying not to blush as he attempts to wrangle both Cass and a curious Steph into turning away from the spectacle. “Is this going to be a _thing_ now? Triumphant raid, saving the innocent, naked celebrations to follow? Because I don’t think any of us are cool with naked celebrations as a _family activity oh my gods what.”_

Bruce stares broodingly out to sea, watching the longship row in to shore. The air is crisp with the chill of autumn as the gray, tumbling waves and dark skies grow more ominous by the moment.

“You’re late,” he growls as the lean form of his eldest springs ashore before the longship is even quite aground.

_If they had been slower by even a few days, they might have been caught at sea during the onslaught of storm season. They wouldn’t have stood a chance._

Dick laughs, face alight with joy as he embraces Bruce, who allows it while trying not to show how happy he is. After all, Dick wouldn’t behave so cheerfully had anything gone wrong, certainly not if any of his siblings had been injured. “We ran into a few surprises, that’s all.” He turns back to assist in beaching the ship.

Bruce spots the tall, muscular form of his second son, Jason, assisting his elder brother amidst laughter and ribbing. Somehow both of their leather tunics and chainmail are now missing, and the bare skin of their muscular chests and arms glistens in the rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds as their sisters splash them with their oars.

Bruce snorts and shakes his head as the boys apparently embark upon some manner of contest of strength, flexing their muscles and taking turns dragging the longship ashore whilst their siblings remain in the ship, laughing and cheering them on. Steph uses an oar to splash Jason, who playfully threatens to drag her out of the ship into the water but is in turn thwarted by Cass and Barbara fending him off with their oars.

Bruce allows himself a small, private smile.

How he has missed this, missed _them_.

His family is home, and considering the time of year and inclement weather, this is certain to be the last raid of the season.

Bruce allows himself a wave of internal happiness and peaceful contentment at that knowledge, which lasts until his ears pick up a noise so soft it barely carries over the sound of the waves and the boisterous noise of the villagers welcoming the raiding party home.

Bruce’s head whips back toward the ship, where his gaze searches the chaotic scene, traveling over the carved bat prominently featured on the prow, the oars, the halyard roping and sail, and the numerous figures moving about on the deck, before zeroing in on a slight, shaking form timidly disembarking now that the ship is aground.

The unknown boy is very small, dressed in ill-fitting clothing which hangs from his petite frame, and he’s gazing at the gathered crowd with trepidation and uncertainty clearly written on his pale, delicate and intelligent little face.

Confusion and a gathering rage begin to brew within Bruce at the sight.

 _A prisoner? And a mere child at that. How_ dare _they._

Memories crowd his mind, images of his own terrible, traumatic journey across the waves as a newly orphaned child carried to a strange land by the very people who murdered his parents.

The target of the raid his children just completed was East Anglia, painfully close to where Bruce himself was born and would have grown up had it not been for the invaders.

Only Alfred’s kindness and generosity had saved Bruce as a child from being raised as a thrall, the lowest of the low. The kindly old chieftain took him in, raising him as his own and giving him the chance to rise as a warrior in his own right, worthy to become chieftain himself and begin to enact change from within to the cruel customs which stole his parents from him and started him on this path.

Further images of a weeping, terrified and grieving child curled beside the bodies of his murdered parents, a truculent orphaned boy who attacked Bruce with a stolen cudgel to try to defend himself, and a tiny girl who couldn’t even speak the local language, all carried to their shores by the raiding parties, assault his mind.

His children, each of whom also lost everything to the vicious, rapacious raids of the past. Dick, Jason, and Cass should all _know better_ than to perpetrate such brutality on another, having already endured and survived it themselves.

And Barbara and Stephanie, while locally born prior to losing their parents and coming into Bruce’s family, have always vocally supported his reforms and are just as unlikely to intentionally bring harm to the innocent.

 _What were they_ thinking? _Have they all gone mad?_

Ignoring Dick’s smothered laughter as Jason struggles to his feet from where he was somehow dunked in the water to glare, dripping, at all his siblings, as well as what seems to be a surprisingly large amount of money exchanging hands among the members of the raiding party, Bruce strides toward the tiny, huddled child who is now standing on the gravelly beach, blinking wide blue eyes and clutching a thin blanket around his slender shoulders.

“Hello,” Bruce says to the child as he kneels in front of him, trying not to loom over the little one. The boy flinches at his approach but straightens his shoulders to face him.

 _That’s a good sign,_ Bruce finds himself thinking. _His spirit isn’t broken._ He hates himself for his suspicions, hates the _situation_ as he finds his gaze traveling the boy’s body for visible signs of mistreatment or injuries.

 _They would never…_ Bruce does not want to believe any of his children would hurt an innocent like this, but it’s still a tremendous relief to him when he realizes the boy’s pale skin is unmarred and he shows no sign of hidden wounds.

“Um, hello,” The boy whispers. His fair skin and accent confirm him to be a native of East Anglia, yet more damning evidence he was taken in the raid as spoils of war, treated as some object to be stolen and sold rather than a human being deserving of respect and common decency.

Bewildered, terrible fury grows in Bruce with every breath.

The boy Bruce had at first glance taken to be a child of twelve or so is clearly older upon closer inspection, perhaps as much as fifteen. Still, he is only a child, and right now he is obviously afraid, having been brutally taken from his home and kin to be carried unwillingly across the sea by those who wronged him.

A rising sense of futility and sorrow threatens to drag Bruce down, this evidence that all his effort has been for naught nearly enough to overwhelm him. If even his rescued orphans, each carefully taught compassion and ethics, will stoop to such actions, what chance has he at changing an entire society?

 _I thought I_ had _changed things, at least here in our village, taught them better than this. How_ could _they?_

 _All the reforms I’ve made over the years since earning my fortune and reputation as a warrior, my actions freeing the thralls, offering free education and reform, instituting better management and planning practices so that we don’t_ have _to raid to get enough food to eat to last the winter._

 _I thought they_ understood, _that raiding now is only for righting injustices, saving the downtrodden, and distributing food to others in need. Not…_ hurting _the innocent. Not_ this.

 _How could my_ own children _have reverted to the cruel old ways that injured them so, and abducted this poor boy from his home. How am I to offer him the same comfort and safety I once did for each of them, if he has to share his home with the very same people who stole his parents from him?_

Bruce allows his glare to sweep out over his children, who have gathered in a loose circle around him and the boy as the remainder of the crew disperses with the villagers, leaving the Wayne family to their reunion.

Dick stands tall and easy, only a slight look of concern in his eyes betraying he has noticed Bruce’s growing distress. Jason has a hand on one hip, a challenging grin on his face as he watches Bruce. Barbara and Stephanie roll their eyes at the boys while Cass watches the proceedings with bright interest.

“You know the rules,” Bruce growls, and they all shift guiltily, some looking more surprised than others at his words and tone. The quiet boy’s brows climb as he watches in silence. “We raise our swords in defense of the innocent, never for our own gain and _never_ to take a life, or a prisoner. What were all of you _thinking.”_

Dick’s jaw drops and Barbara blinks in surprise as Steph begins to protest and Cass soothes her with a calming gesture, smiling gently.

Jason leans forward angrily, hands clenched into fists, and the unknown boy suddenly springs to his feet, pushing Jason’s chest back with one hand as though he believes his delicate, slim body can somehow stop the broad, tall form of Bruce’s second son. “Wait!” The boy turns quickly to face Bruce beseechingly. “I think there must be some misunderstanding here.”

“You were carried here by a raiding party in a longship and cast ashore with nothing but the clothes on your back, obviously traumatized and grief-stricken. It’s something I have seen many times in the past when raiders chose to carry back an orphaned prisoner, although I _never_ expected _my own children_ to perpetrate such an atrocity. What misunderstanding can there be.”

Jason rears back in stunned surprise, and then growls at Bruce’s words, biting off a vicious curse. “Odin’s hairy _ball_ sack, you’re an asshole. _Fuck,_ B, how could you even _think—”_

The boy pats Jason soothingly on his broad, exposed chest before shaking his head and smiling reassuringly up at Bruce. “I see how appearances might be misleading, but it wasn’t like that, not at all. They didn’t take me from my home; my parents died years ago and I’ve been managing on my own for a long time now. Your kids offered me a place in their crew after I helped them during their raid to free the village of Dunwich from Lord Crane’s influence.”

Dick shakes his head, grinning. “He was actually a _huge_ help, B; Lord Crane _was_ experimenting on the villagers, just like we suspected based on the rumors, but we were having trouble finding where he was keeping his prisoners until Timmy here just popped up in our camp, cool as you please, and shared all this inside knowledge. He even drew us a map to lead us to the prisoners—”

“Information he got by _putting himself at terrible risk—”_ Jason interrupts, glaring at the small, visibly unrepentant boy at his side.

The boy, _Timmy_ apparently, shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Steph rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, because you’re _lucky_ enough you managed to escape Crane’s men with your life, not because you aren’t an idiot.” Her stern words don’t hide the very real concern in her voice, and the boy gives her a sweet little smile which she returns, still shaking her head at him.

“Tim was able to bring us everything we needed to stop Lord Crane’s operations and deliver him to the local magistrate with enough evidence even someone with his power will be hard put to wiggle out of the charges. Without Tim’s help our return home would have been delayed even longer.” Barbara smiles fondly at the boy, who looks uncomfortable with the praise.

“It wasn’t that big a deal. I mean, Crane was taking orphans and people without anyone to notice or look for them if they disappeared. It wasn’t hard at all to get myself picked up by his men, considering I fall into both of those categories. Ow!” He complains as he turns to Jason, who just cuffs him gently on the back of the head again.

“Idiot. You coulda been killed! When you broke loose there were ten of his men after you, if you hadn’t run into us they woulda caught you and then…”

“I had heard you guys were around and had been asking questions about Crane in the village. All I had to do was make it to your camp, and I knew I’d be safe. Your family reputation as eccentric Vikings who actually _protect_ the innocent is pretty widespread. We’ve heard stories about your valor even as far away as East Anglia, you know.” He smiles shyly, shrugging. “I knew I could trust you.”

Bruce stares at the boy, who apparently has no self-preservation instincts at all, as his children continue to bicker with their newest addition.

He slowly calms, the painful memories of each of his children coming to him over the years alone, traumatized, and trembling as he wrenched them from the rough, jeering arms of raiders planning to sell them as thralls dissipating as he acknowledges the ring of truth in the boy’s story and feels shame at his initial suspicions.

Of course his children wouldn’t perpetuate the cruelty of their own childhoods, wouldn’t orphan another and enact the same grievous errors as had stolen their own parents, and his, so long ago.

Instead, they’ve apparently taken a leaf directly from _his_ book, and adopted their own orphan.

_Well, I probably shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t as though we weren’t expecting something like this for years now—_

As he realizes the full implications of that thought, Bruce’s eyes widen and he half-turns, hoping against hope…

But his hopes are dashed. Alfred is standing right there at his elbow, smirking faintly. “Ah, I do believe the terms of our bet have finally been fulfilled. Are you ready with your forfeit?” There’s a smug twinkle in his kindly old eyes that tells Bruce exactly how much joy the older man who raised him is taking in this moment.

_Well, I suppose it could be worse. At least it isn’t snowing yet._

Grumbling, Bruce begins to strip off his clothing in quick, efficient movements as his children react with surprise and horrified alarm, backing away from him, eyes widening in dismay.

Jason catches a blushing, stumbling Tim and gently tucks the shorter boy under his arm, pulling him protectively close and letting him hide his face in Jason’s chest.

“Bruce, what the _hell,”_ Dick is covering his eyes with one hand and trying not to blush as he attempts to wrangle both Cass and a curious Steph into turning away from the spectacle. “Is this going to be a _thing_ now? Triumphant raid, saving the innocent, naked celebrations to follow? Because I don’t think any of us are cool with naked celebrations as a _family activity oh my gods what.”_

“Are you about to jump in the ocean? Is this like, a macho thing? Because if you are I’m gonna dare Dick and Jason to do it too and they’ll probably actually do it, which will be _hilarious.”_ Steph’s peeking at him expectantly around Dick’s frantic hand trying to cover her wide blue eyes.

Barbara eyes him with concern before carefully asking, “Bruce, just how much sleep have you gotten recently? Your behavior is a little… concerning, right now.” She lifts a brow, then narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Did you try smoking that strange herb we found on the last raid again?”

Bruce inhales slowly, acclimating to being completely exposed to both the chill wind and the humiliating gaze of his entire family.

_This is ridiculous._

“No. Alfred and I merely had a bet over which one of you would be the first to follow in my footsteps and bring home an orphan.”

Dick tilts his head curiously. “And you… won?” He sounds uncertain.

“No. If I had won, _you_ would have been the one to bring home an orphan, and Alfred would have had to make me my favorite dinner for three nights running.”

Jason frowns, petting Tim’s hair soothingly. “So… _Alfie_ won? Why the fuck would his prize be you _stripping?_ That seems like more of a punishment honestly.” He shrugs unrepentantly at Bruce’s offended glare and Alfred’s smothered chuckle of agreement.

Bruce clears his throat. “No. Alfred would have won if _you_ had been the one to bring home an orphan, and his prize would have been me doing all the washing for a week.”

“That sounds like a punishment for all of us too, considering how much you suck at cleaning,” someone mutters.

“Watching his attempts would have amused me,” Alfred explains.

Babs smirks. “So _what_ is _this?”_ She manages to keep her eyes on Bruce’s face, a faint blush her only acknowledgement of the acres of bare, tanned skin and muscle on display.

“Well, kitten, you see, that would be _my_ prize.” Selina’s throaty chuckle draws their gaze to the appreciatively smiling woman who joined them at some point during the distraction. “My bet was that it would be _all_ of you, acting together, springing the next orphan on us. And I’m utterly delighted to be proven right.”

His children still appear stunned, although whether that is due to the nature of the bet or Bruce’s current state of nudity is anybody’s guess.

Bruce sighs and decides to offer some manner of explanation. “Honey mead was involved. And Selina can be very… _convincing.”_ He allows himself a slow smirk, and Dick's brows fly up.

“Wow, okay, got it, no need for further details; please stop talking now though we don't need to be traumatized.” Dick’s gaze drops involuntarily and he blanches, squeezing his eyes shut. “Any more than we already are.”

Bruce chuckles.

His beautiful wife winks as she eyes him up and down with a predatory smirk while their assorted children retch and groan and Alfred coughs lightly under his breath to hide his amusement.

“Is it safe to look yet?” Bruce hears Tim whisper into Jason’s chest.

“No, Baby, but don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, just like I promised.” And Jason lifts the smaller boy up in his arms and begins murmuring softly in his ear, clearly doing his level best to pretend he doesn’t know any member of this embarrassment of a family.

Bruce glances at Dick, who’s watching the two and smiling fondly. _Interesting._

Apparently there’s more to the story than what they’ve shared with Bruce thus far. Well, if Jason has found a worthy partner Bruce has no objections.

His gaze travels to his still-smirking wife who is now openly leering at him, admiring the results of her trickery, and he wonders if he should revise his opinion. Romance is completely ridiculous and potentially endlessly humiliating, as illustrated by his current situation.

He tries to ignore the fact that the rest of the raiding party has returned to start a beach bonfire for the feast and are now stripping off their shirts in apparent solidarity with their chieftain. Roy and Kori have gone so far as to strip completely naked for no apparent reason other than simple joy in life, and are dancing naked around the bonfire, intricately tattooed bare skin glowing in the firelight.

Selina leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him, sweet and open and happy, and he internally shrugs before straightening and tugging her close with an arm around her shoulders. He glances at his son again and snorts at the sight; Jason is now sitting on a log by the fire, grinning and laughing with his siblings and gazing adoringly down at the slim boy smiling back at him on his lap, heart in his big blue eyes.

Well. Romance isn’t actually all _that_ bad. And it’s clearly far too late for Jason anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, looking adorable and tiny and helpless as hell:** “Hello!” *Blinks, triggers all Bruce’s protective-dad, orphan collecting instincts*  
>  **Bruce, jumping to all the worst conclusions:** “YOU’VE KIDNAPPED A CHILD YOU MONSTERS HOW COULD YOU” *Snatches Tim up and clutches him protectively*  
>  **Jason, confused and enraged:** “WTF give him back, Dad! Jesus fuck, this is why I never bring any boys home!” *Grabs Tim back, cuddles him reassuringly while glaring at Bruce*  
>  **Bruce, suddenly fully naked for no discernible reason:** “Congratulations! As your welcome to the family, here’s some full frontal” *Smirks as children shriek and claw at eyes*  
>  **Selina, taking way too much joy in this:** “Let this be a lesson; never EVER bet against me, darlings” *Kisses Bruce, adding further trauma for their disgusted children*  
>  **Jason, beyond embarrassed:** “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Baby, I fuckin’ WARNED you how they are” *Waits for Tim to walk away in disgust from Jason and his crazy, nudist family*  
>  **Tim, grinning and kissing Jason’s cheek:** “What are you talking about, you guys are HILARIOUS I’m never leaving” *Laughs as Jason picks him up and does happy dance around fire, ignores numerous naked strangers also doing happy dances around fire*


	4. College // Vegas Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the third finger of Timmy’s left hand, a bright gold flash sparkles damningly at them all. As though drawn by an irresistible force, each of them looks down at their own left hand, and the room fills with gasps and moans of dismay. 
> 
> _Well, fuck me._ “Guess this ain’t a huge fuckin’ orgy bed after all,” Jason huffs. “It’s our fuckin’ _gigantic polyamorous marital bed.”_
> 
> The noise Bruce lets out in that moment is barely human, and Jason would feel sympathy if he weren’t too overcome by horror himself. 
> 
> _What the actual fuck._

Jason floats up to awareness slowly, gradually becoming conscious of a pleasant warmth curled around his back along with a very fucking _un_ pleasant sensation like his head is being slowly crushed in a vise and his stomach is attempting to twist itself right the fuck out of his body.

_Jesus fuckin’ Christ on a stick what the hell happened last night._

He stretches experimentally, feeling the warmth along his back respond and move with him. A very masculine-feeling arm curls around his waist and draws him close while a grumbly, sleep-roughened voice makes unhappy noises at him, clearly pleading with him to be still.

A very fucking _familiar_ voice, and _not_ one Jason ever expected or wanted to wake up next to after what was apparently one hell of a drunken mistake.

 _God fuckin’_ damn it, _really? Right when I’m finally past the damn Pit and makin’ amends, workin’ my way through college and getting’ my shit together, almost ready to make a move on Timmy, I go and fuckin’ pull_ this? _Jesus fuck, my life is a goddamn raging tire fire. In hell._

“Whazza?” The owner of the voice behind him is waking up, clearly responding to the tension in his body. “Huh? Wait, _Jason?!”_ Dick yelps in surprise, his arm yanking back off Jason’s waist as he attempts to scuttle back away from Jason across the bed, but is thwarted by a muffled, pained grunt from behind _him._

Dick twists, wide eyed with shock, pushing back against Jason who draws his brother automatically closer as they both peer suspiciously at the lump in the bed. “Who the fuck are you,” Jason growls, then chokes as a hand pulls the covers down and big blue eyes blink at them in confusion under a messy thatch of dark brown hair.

“Um, hi?” Kon says, blinking. “Why are you in my bed? Wait, this isn’t my bed!” His head whips from side to side. “Oh my god, are we in some random _hotel room?”_ His voice climbs higher in distress. “Did we just have a drunken _gay threesome?”_

 _“Rude,”_ Dick snipes, clearly offended at the Kryptonian’s tone.

Which, come to think of it, _was_ pretty fuckin’ offensive.

“Hey, fuck you! If we _did,_ you’re fuckin’ _lucky_ to have been with Dickie and me. We’re a goddamn delight.”

Kon’s face pales and he shakes his head, sitting up and clutching the blankets to his chest like a lady. “No, wait—I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sure having a threesome with you two would be—but I don’t—I’m not _—oh my god…”_ He digs his fingers into his hair, breathing rapidly and muttering to himself.

“Calm down, Kon, some people are still trying to sleep.” Another familiar voice speaks up from father away on the apparently fuckin’ _orgy-sized bed_ as Tim’s head pops up on the other side of Kon.

He’s blinking sleepily, an annoyed expression on his face under some truly epic bedhead that makes Jason just want to shove the others out of bed and curl himself around Timmy for the next, oh, _forever._

 _God_ damn _he’s so fuckin’ cute. Why the fuck is it I finally managed to get Timmy in bed with me, and not only do I not remember_ any _of it, but his fuckin’ best friend and our goddamn_ brother _are here with us too?!_

“Silence, you oafs! Have you no consideration? _Some_ of us would have infinitely preferred sleeping through the worst of this thrice bedamned hangover!”

_No. FUCK no, this is NOT happening._

Slowly, as though against their will, Jason, Dick, Kon and Tim all turn to see an angry, disheveled Damian levering himself up on his elbows amidst the seemingly infinite pillows and blankets covering the enormous bed.

“No.” Jason shakes his head, sitting up and pointing an accusing finger at Damian. “NO. Sex with Timbo, well okay, he’s hot and we were drunk, I can get behind that.”

“That’s what he said,” Kon whispers, and then giggles like a moron until Tim elbows him in the gut. Tim rolls his eyes at his friend, blushing.

Jason ignores them. “With Dickie, okay, that’s kinda fucked up, ‘cause he and I were actually raised as brothers for a while and he knew me when I was twelve. But fine, whatever, we were drunk and he has the ass of a god. I get that.”

“Um, thanks?” Dick sounds like he’s not sure if he should be flattered or uncomfortable. “You have really amazing thighs, Jaybird.” He squinches up his face. “That felt weird to say.”

Jason’s not sure if his roiling stomach is the hangover or a consequence of the strangely flattered-but-uncomfortable feeling Dickie’s giving him. “Ugh, thanks I guess Dickface. Anyway. And fuckin’ Timmy’s bestie, yeah, alright, he’s got muscles for days and I can sorta see it.” He makes a face. “If I squint.”

Kon grimaces. “Thanks?”

“But _you—”_ Jason points at Damian again. _“Fuck,_ no. Beer goggles or not, I don’t care that you’re eighteen now, _you_ have been around me since you were fuckin’ _ten._ You’re my baby brother, and if I find out I debauched you in this huge fuckin’ orgy-bed, I’m gonna fuckin’ wanna shoot myself. In the dick.” He frowns. “Them too!” He glares at Dick and Kon, who both cup their groins protectively.

“Wait, what about Tim? He’s here too, and lying right next to Damian! Why don’t you wanna shoot _him_ in the dick? _Ow!”_ Kon rubs his side again and sends Tim a look of betrayal.

“Quit trying to convince Jason to _shoot my penis off_ oh my god Kon, you’re supposed to be my _friend!”_ Tim rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

His very _naked_ chest.

Jason’s wearing sweats, and Dick’s got a t-shit and boxers on. Damian’s wearing his stupid imported silk pajamas, looking like a younger, tanned Bruce, and it looks like Kon’s wearing some kinda monstrosity of flannel plaid pajamas, but as far as Jason can see, Tim’s not wearing a stitch.

_Fuck. Okay, at least if there was an orgy, most of us got dressed again after? God damn it, that doesn’t actually help._

“I don’t think you have to shoot anyone in the dick, Jason! It’s not what you think.” Another voice pipes up from the mounds of blankets on the bed, startling everyone into jerking back as a dark head pops out of the covers between Tim and Damian.

“Jon,” Damian says faintly. “I had not realized you were present. Have you evidence that we have not committed various unseemly acts upon each other’s persons over the course of our lamentable night of licentious depravity?”

The younger Kryptonian grins and nods. “Yeah! I don’t actually remember how we got to the hotel or much from before that, but I was sobering up by the time we got here and I _do_ know all we did once we hit the bed was pillow fight, then go to sleep.”

 _“Thank fuck,”_ Jason breathes, a sentiment that is echoed by the relieved expressions on Dick, Tim, and Kon’s faces.

“While your statement is somewhat reassuring, it leaves something to be desired. You may be misremembering, engaging in wishful thinking, or lying; additionally, one need not be in a bed to commit compromising, licentious acts. Our collective intemperance may have led to fornication earlier in the evening.” Damian lifts a supercilious eyebrow because he’s a complete asshole who refuses to leave Jason to his blissful ignorance.

There’s a dark growl and Bruce suddenly materializes, rising up from the pile of pillows at the head of the bed like a horror movie and looming over all of them. Everyone jumps in shock and dismay and Jason lets out a manly shriek of horror. Tim gives an adorable little squeak of terror and promptly flushes pink.

The blush goes down the exposed portion of Tim’s chest and stomach. _Damn I wonder how far down that goes… wait now is not the time for that. Now is the time to fuckin’_ puke _if it turns out we all threw a goddamn_ family orgy _last night, and invited our friends because why the hell not, we gotta put the goddamn_ fun _in dysfunctional somehow._

Dick goes faintly green at the fact that _fuckin’ Bruce is in their goddamn orgy bed._

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, B, you’re such a fuckin’ drama queen. How long were you lurking hiding out under the goddamn pillows, just waiting for the right moment for your big fuckin’ entrance?” Jason glares at the old bastard, who of course completely ignores him.

“Tim, are you sore anywhere?” Tim jumps at the older man’s inquiry, then goes bright red as he absorbs the import of Bruce’s words.

 _“Bruce!”_ Tim buries his flaming face in his hands. “Why are you assuming _I’m_ the one who would- would be—” He breaks off, clearly unable to finish.

“Penetrated,” Damian finishes for him with relish, clearly taking grim satisfaction in making the most of this awful situation by mocking Tim as much as possible. “Obviously Father believes _you_ are the most likely among us to be in the receiving position during anal sex. Perhaps this is because of your delicate features, diminutive stature, or—”

“Enough, Damian.” Bruce rubs a hand over his face, sighing. “It is merely because Tim was squirming and looked uncomfortable.”

Everyone turns to look at Tim, who _is_ squirming awkwardly. Jason’s fists clench and he glares viciously at Kon and Jon as the most likely candidates for despoiling Tim. After all, he _was_ lying between them all night. “You _fuckers,_ did you _touch him?”_

Kon recoils into Tim, who grunts in displeasure and pushes him away. “Quit it, Kon! Jason, Bruce, _no,_ oh my god, I’m not sore, _gross,_ as far as I can tell no one bad touched me or whatever.” Tim makes a moue of distaste. “No, I was just… well, freaking out a little? I mean, really, has no one else noticed…?” He waves a hand through the air, and all the breath leaves Jason’s lungs as he focuses and sees it.

There’s a ring.

On the third finger of Timmy’s left hand, a bright gold flash sparkles damningly at them all. As though drawn by an irresistible force, each of them looks down at their own left hand, and the room fills with gasps and moans of dismay.

 _Well, fuck me._ “Guess this ain’t a huge fuckin’ orgy bed after all,” Jason huffs. “It’s our fuckin’ _gigantic polyamorous marital bed.”_

The noise Bruce lets out in that moment is barely human, and Jason would feel sympathy if he weren’t too overcome by horror himself.

_What the actual fuck._

*

Tim looks from one to another of his various immediate family and friends, still waking up more slowly than usual in the absence of delicious, delicious life-bringing coffee to welcome him to consciousness. The brutal hangover and confusion of the loud din combine painfully to make his head swim momentarily before a memory obtrudes and his mouth drops open in surprise.

“We’re here on spring break,” he whispers slowly, focusing. “Me and Kon. We haven’t had a chance to see each other much since college is taking up so much of our time these days, not to mention the Titans and Kon’s part-time job and Wayne Enterprises…” Tim blinks, brows drawing together in thought. “So Kon and I came to Vegas, to have fun, drink a little, count some cards, maybe watch some shows.”

“That’s right…” Kon stares into space, clearly concentrating hard trying to remember. “Oh! And our dads made us take our little brothers along so we wouldn’t have too much fun!” He smiles brightly, happy to have remembered that detail, and Tim winces slightly at the offended looks on Damian and Jon’s faces.

Bruce sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Clearly we underestimated your combined ability to get into trouble.”

“You did your best,” Kon consoles him, patting Bruce’s arm. Bruce glares at him until he falters and retracts his hand, looking for all the world like a scolded puppy.

“So now we know why four of us are here, and where _here_ most likely is, unless Kon and Jon decided to drunk-fly us somewhere besides Las Vegas. Which I guess is a real possibility. But that doesn’t explain why we’re _all_ piled into the gigantic polyamorous marital bed together.”

“Stop calling it that,” Bruce orders, and is summarily ignored because _Tim will take any sliver of humor he can drag from this awful, soul-killing situation._

Ignoring the pained flinches around him at the reminder of how they all woke up wrapped around each other, Tim raises his eyes, skimming over Kon’s honest, confused face to zero in on Dick and Jason’s guilty expressions.

_Bingo._

“So.” Tim narrows his eyes at them. “That leads me to one question… what, exactly, are _you two_ doing here?”

Dick breaks first, crumbling beneath the onslaught of Tim’s accusing glare. “We’re sorry, Timmy! It’s just, Jay and I were in the Cave and we overheard B talking to Clark about you and Kon going on this trip together. They were going to send Dami and Jon along to chaperon you guys, and we just wanted to help run interference so you and Kon could have some _alone_ time if you wanted!” He smiles winningly. “I know you two would be so _good_ for each other, you should have a chance to get together without your family blundering in and ruining it for you!”

 _What the fuck._ Tim’s eyes fly to Kon, who looks equally panicked. _Dick thinks Kon and I want to be a_ couple?! _Oh god, why is this happening to me…_

“Speak for yourself, Dickface! _I_ didn’t come along to set Timbo up with the goddamn clone! I’m here to protect Timmy’s virtue from that smug bastard! Can’t forget, asshole’s half _Luthor,_ he’ll screw Timmers over in a heartbeat if we let ‘im.” Jason folds his massive arms over his bare, muscular chest and Tim feels _so confused._

_What._

“What,” Tim manages.

Jason shrugs, glancing at Tim apologetically before going right back to glaring at a frightened, confused Kon. “What I said, Timbers. You’re fuckin’ oblivious, you wouldn’t even _know_ he was takin’ advantage of you, you’d just wake up in his bed wonderin’ what happened.”

“Oh, you mean _exactly like what is literally happening right now?_ Great job, Jason; you managed to utterly fail in your self-appointed task of protecting my supposed virtue, considering I just woke up _in a bed_ with _six men.”_ Tim stares daggers at Jason, who holds his hands up placatingly.

“Sorry, Timbo, but this just goes to show how much you _need_ to be protected!”

“No it doesn’t! And anyway, you’re in the gigantic polyamorous marital bed too!” He ignores Bruce’s pained groan. “Obviously _you_ are an awful choice for a protector!”

Jason shrugs, allowing the point, and Tim squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay, and am I right in assuming Bruce then found out all of us were going, and decided to follow for his own uniquely invasive, Bat-like reasons?”

Silence, and then a resentful, “Maybe.”

Tim opens his eyes and glowers at Bruce until the man grudgingly continues. “When I checked the footage and viewed Dick and Jason’s conversation in which they decided to follow you, it was clear the risk of Superboy managing to effectively isolate and compromise you at some point during this excursion would be unacceptably high, particularly in light of the revelation that Dick intended to encourage his amorous attentions toward your person.” Bruce scowls at Dick, who rolls his eyes.

“While I appreciated Jason’s intention to protect you from such impositions, I was unwilling to leave your safety solely to him.”

“Hey, fuck you old man! I can take care of Timmy just fine!” Jason growls angrily.

“Circumstances would appear otherwise.” At Bruce’s antagonistic statement, Jason attempts to climb over all of them to get to the other man, and Dick goes flying with an unintentional knee to the face while Kon crumples under the impact of a probably very intentional elbow to the groin.

 _“Why,”_ he moans as he collapses onto Tim, crushing him into the bed and forcing him to sprawl across Jon and Damian’s laps.

“Get _off,_ Drake!” Damian attempts to shove Tim away but fails as Kon’s immense bulk squishes the slim man, who gasps at the unexpected assault.

“Get the fuck offa him!” Jason roars, yanking Kon bodily off of Tim and throwing him over his shoulder where he flies into Dick and the pair roll off the bed. Jason gently gathers Tim into his arms, checking him over for injuries before tucking him protectively under an arm and glaring at the others challengingly.

 _Oh._ Tim catches his breath, wondering at Jason’s guarding stance. It’s warm and comfy and he wishes he could just close his eyes and let the remaining wisps of his hangover fade away.

 _Jason smells amazing._ Tim’s eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected thought.

That… is definitely a thing he’ll need to think about at some point.

But.

It’s probably not something he should be thinking about right now, at a moment when he _might be married to absolutely any of them._

 _Okay,_ focus, _Tim, you gotta figure this mess out before doing anything about how nice Jason smells, and how great he looks without a shirt on, and…_

_Oh god. Right, moving on._

“Okay, while that answers a few of the immediate questions on how we ended up here and what exactly we did… it still leaves some of the most important ones unanswered.” Tim presses his lips together, _seriously_ not wanting to be the one to bring this up. “Um, does anyone happen to remember who’s married to whom?”

At the horrified expressions and the way everyone in the room but him and Jason recoils slightly from each other, he sighs.

It’s going to be a long morning.

“But I’m straight,” Kon blurts out, apparently still stuck on the way everyone seems to think he and Tim were trying for some kind of romantic getaway at the beginning of all this. “No question. Tim and I figured that out years ago.”

Jason releases Tim and turns toward Kon, looming menacingly over him with a vicious, burning green glare. “Figured it out _how,_ you fucker? You sayin’ you fuckin’ _used_ Timmy to experiment, then _threw him away_ once you were good and sure you weren’t gay? _Is that what you’re sayin’ you goddamn piece of shit._ ” He bites off the words furiously, obviously an instant away from punching Kon in the face.

_Oh shit._

Jason’s teeth audibly grind together and Kon whimpers, watching with huge eyes as Jason jerks out a hand, palm up, toward Bruce without once breaking eye contact with the terrified Kryptonian. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruce places a small box he materialized from… _somewhere…_ in Jason’s hand.

Jason grins devilishly, a look of fiendish delight taking over his still ridiculously handsome face. “I hope it was fuckin’ worth it, you little _fucker,_ ‘cause I bet this Kryptonite’s gonna hurt like a motherfuckin’ _bitch_ when I shove it up your—”

“Eep!” Kon dives at Tim, clutching at his shoulders and hunching down in a doomed attempt to hide behind the smaller boy. _“Tim,_ stop your psycho brother before he murders me right here on our gigantic polyamorous marital bed!” He bleats, cowering.

“Jason, don’t murder Kon on our gigantic polyamorous marital bed.” Tim’s lips twitch and he snorts, momentarily overcome by the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Respect the sanctity of our vows!”

Jason crosses his arms over his chest and tries to make puppy eyes at Tim while still glaring warningly at Kon. It’s a good effort, but it doesn’t really end up working and he just ends up looking constipated. “Baby Bird…”

Tim shakes his head, blushing and hiding his face in his hand. “Oh my god Jason _why_ are you making this into such a big deal, Kon and I just _kissed one time,_ a couple of years ago, and it wasn’t even that good! Kon didn’t take advantage of me, I swear.”

Jason gently tugs Tim’s hand down and examines his face, then sighs in relief at the truth he sees there. “Okay, that’s… good. That’s good.” He nods decisively, then frowns as his gaze drops to Tim’s ring finger again. “So you…?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t _think_ Kon and I got married last night, but seriously, I have no idea. My memory’s shot after the skinny dipping in the fountain at the Bellagio incident.”

Several groans and horrified gasps draw their attention back to the rest of the room, where Damian and Jon are blushing furiously, Dick and Kon are frantically checking social media for evidence of their indiscretions, and Bruce is calmly texting his public relations manager.

“It’s fine,” Bruce says eventually. “Apparently we were all wearing highly realistic masks depicting faces of various former presidents of the United States.” He pauses, then blinks. “The video of Jason wearing nothing but an Abraham Lincoln mask and boxers, sweeping Tim wearing only slacks, a loosened tie, and a Barack Obama mask off his feet, and then kissing him before they were both pushed into the fountain by Dick in a John F. Kennedy mask is particularly popular.”

“Wait, that was _all_ Dick was wearing?!” Kon blurts out, looking a cross between horrified and impressed.

Bruce frowns. “No. I simply chose not to dignify his choice in attire with a description.”

Of course everyone immediately looks over his shoulder at the phone. _“Oh my god,”_ Dick whimpers. “Where did I even _get_ a Borat-style banana hammock?!”

Jason guffaws. “That’s a good look for you, Dickiebird. I think your sense of fashion is actually fuckin’ _improving.”_

Dick glares at Jason, and Tim shrugs apologetically. “You _have_ worn worse, Dick.” His older brother glares for a moment longer, then sighs, nodding reluctantly.

“Wait, is that _me?”_ Damian’s horrified exclamation draws their attention back to the tiny phone screen, where another video has begun to autoplay. “What. The. _Hell.”_

The other boys burst into raucous laughter as Damian on the screen, clad in an excellent devil costume and wearing a Donald Trump mask with horns and fangs apparently poorly attached using duct tape, flips off his brothers and drunkenly attacks a fully clothed Jon in a George Washington mask. Jon-as-Washington, startled, jerks in surprise and collapses back into the water where the boys’ flailing antics make it appear for a moment that Damian-as-Devil Trump is attempting to drown the first president.

“Oh my _god,”_ Jon whispers. “What even did we _drink_ last night? I didn’t think I _could_ get drunk off of normal alcohol!”

“I have my suspicions,” Bruce says darkly, then freezes in absolute dismay as a tall form that is unmistakably _himself_ staggers into the frame wearing a Ronald Reagan mask along with the distinctive dark pants, bow tie, collar and shirt cuffs of a Chippendale dancer.

As everyone watches in horrified fascination, Bruce-as-Reagan on the screen yanks the two struggling boys up out of the water, sets them on their feet, and joins Jason-as-Lincoln and Dick-as-Kennedy in what looks like the beginning of a striptease for Tim-as-Obama and whomever is holding the camera and laughing. Female giggling can be heard in the background, but whomever it is stays outside the frame.

 _“Hn.”_ Bruce moves jerkily to skip the remainder of the video, then stares in mute horror as another begins.

This one is Tim-as-Obama and Jason-as-Lincoln clinging to each other and lip-synching _Total Eclipse of the Heart,_ which is blasting from Dick-as-Kennedy’s phone. Dick-as-Kennedy is happily dancing around them, arms in the air; in the background Damian’s voice can be heard deriding their taste in music.

“Well,” Dick says after a suitably long pause while they all gaze at the chaos on the screen, “At least no one’s actual identities have been compromised so far. See, Timmy and Jason were even careful about that while kissing!”

Everyone’s attention jerks back to the screen, where Dick-as-Kennedy is jerking in shock and dropping his phone while being sprayed in the face by a gout of water as the fountain activates. Jason and Tim are indeed kissing enthusiastically, their presidential masks tilted to the side so nothing of their real faces shows to the camera.

It’s super-creepy, like Obama and Lincoln are rubbing cheeks together and glaring at the spectators.

“Wait…” Kon says slowly. “Where are me and Jon during all this?”

Even as he speaks, a loud whoop sounds over the phone speaker as two flying forms hurtle into the fountain bearing what appears to be an actual honest-to-Tesla _pirate ship._

_Oh god._

“Is that the pirate ship from the Treasure Island casino?” Dick says faintly, watching as the airborne supers lower the ship into the fountain with a splash to the drunken cheers of those frolicking below, who all immediately begin to swarm up onto the ship.

Damian-as-Devil Trump appears to be wielding a katana and attempting to force a startled Tim-as-Obama into walking the plank, but is tackled to the ground and then spanked by Bruce-as-Raegan while Jason-as-Lincoln comforts Tim-as-Obama.

Bruce blanches at the sight and turns off the video with a convulsive motion, swallowing. “Damage control,” he mutters to himself, beginning to rapidly compose another email to his public relations team.

Tim should probably be feeling more horrified and panicked at all this, but Jason’s put an arm around his shoulders and drawn him back to his side again, and yeah. That’s pretty nice.

Definitely something he’ll want to explore more… _thoroughly,_ once they figure out what the _hell_ to do about this hot mess.

*

Jason’s got Timmy in his arms, the shorter boy wearing nothing but a pair of red boxer briefs, and the hell of it is he’s in no fuckin’ state of mind to appreciate any of it.

 _Who the fuck did I marry?_ Jason’s mortified gaze trips over Dick and the Kents, stumbles off of Damian and lands squarely on Bruce right as Bruce glances over at him.

 _Fuck no anything but_ that.

They stare at each other for one long, infinitely awkward moment, both apparently unable to tear their eyes away, before the sound of a key in the lock and the door opening mercifully draws their attention.

_No no no never, fuckin’ NEVER, I don’t care how fuckin drunk I was, I’d NEVER marry my goddamn DAD._

Jason realizes everyone’s staring at him, and feels his face heat in humiliation a moment later when Bruce whispers, “Jason.” The older man is staring at him with a stupid soft look in his eyes, because Jason’s an _idiot_ who clearly said all of that out loud.

Bruce smiles dopily. “You called me Dad,” he says, a wondering tone in his voice.

Jason turns away, grumbling, “Yeah, yeah, bask in the fuckin’ glow, B. Just wait, in a minute you’re gonna find out you’re fuckin’ married to the goddamn brat or Dickie, and I’m married to the other, and then we’ll all hafta just fuckin’ _cope_ with how our fuckin’ family tree’s now twisted into a goddamn Celtic knot or some shit.”

Bruce recoils, and Jason grins meanly. “You know, ‘cause now all the branches are fuckin _braided_ on account of all the incestuous marriages—”

He cuts off at the small distressed noise from his arms, and leans down to press his face apologetically against Tim’s hair for a moment. “Sorry, Timbo.”

_Even getting a rise outta Bruce ain’t worth upsetting Timmy._

A throat clearing causes them all to turn back toward the door, where Babs and Steph are staring at them with extremely entertained looks on their faces and Cass is peeking over Babs’ shoulder, clearly waiting for them to enter the room so she can come in too.

“You boys are a little confused, I take it?” Babs’ voice is way too fuckin’ amused for how early it is and how shitty they are feel. She ignores their ineffectual glares and laughs. “Oh, it’s _so_ tempting to just leave you to marinate in your ignorance a while longer, but I think it’s my wifely duty to reassure my husband before he passes out from anxiety.”

Smiling, she advances her wheelchair to roll to a gentle halt alongside where Dick is still sitting sprawled on the floor. “Hunk Wonder,” she says, smirking and extending her left hand, showing off the matching ring. “Sorry I didn’t stick around for you to wake up, but we were hungry and wanted coffee, and you guys were all sleeping so soundly.”

Face lighting up with relieved happiness, Dick jumps to his feet. _“Babs!”_ He takes her hand and presses kiss after heartfelt kiss to it. “Oh, thank _god._ I was just trying to figure out how the heck to explain to you that not only might I be married to someone else, I didn’t even know _who,_ and odds were on it being a member of the _family—”_

Her soft laugh cuts through his distressed babbling and she reaches up to tug his face back down for a proper kiss.

“Get a room,” Jason mutters, although he’s glad for everyone’s sake Dickie didn’t accidentally drunkenly cheat on Babs. He’s just kinda pissed and jealous that they’re so happy right now while everyone else is still utterly miserable.

“Hey Boyfriend!” Steph swings into the room, arms full of loaded drink carriers. “I come bearing coffee!”

“I love you,” Tim says, voice painfully sincere, and Jason’s heart constricts in sudden terror. He’s been worried this whole time about Tim maybe being married to _Kon;_ he hadn’t known Steph was around, and so hadn’t even _considered_ the possibility of Timmy getting back together with his ex.

_Fuck._

But his fears are allayed almost instantly, as Cass steps up to Steph’s side. “Mine.” She takes Steph’s hand, showing off their matching rings, and then kisses her softly on the cheek before helping her distribute the coffee cups to their grateful recipients.

“I was talking to the coffee anyway,” Tim whispers, grinning, and Steph mock-glares at him before breaking into rippling laughter.

“So, not to be fuckin’ rude or anything, but when the fuck did you ladies get here?” _Damn, that came out kinda rude as hell. Oh well, whatever, they’re all used to me bein’ an asshole._

Babs lifts a brow at Jason, then shrugs unapologetically with a glance at Bruce. “Well, once it came to my attention that all of you were headed over here to participate in what promised to be a train wreck of epic and _hilarious_ proportions…”

“We decided to come along to enjoy the show!” Steph gives them a wide grin and then laughs so hard she snorts at their annoyed expressions.

_Oh fuck, now we know who was holdin’ the camera for all those goddamn videos last night…_

“Seriously, we were following you guys all night and it was going great, up until _someone_ decided to spike our smoothies—” Babs directs an unimpressed look at Steph, who appears totally unrepentant.

“It made it more fun! Anyway, I wasn’t the _only_ one spiking drinks last night and you know it!”

Dick and Kon both flinch, then look at each other in surprise. “Uh, I just brought some of Clark’s special occasion drinks! It was only supposed to be for me, so I could have fun; I don’t know how _Jon_ ended up drinking some!” Kon can’t seem to stop blurting out confessions; he’s actually wringing his hands in dismay.

“Oh, _that’s_ what that was,” Jon says with an air of discovery. “I was just thirsty, so I took some when you weren’t looking. I _thought_ it tasted funny.” Kon face palms.

Everyone turns to look at Dick expectantly. He squirms under the attention, then says with a smile and a shrug, “I wanted everyone to have a good time? Yeah, okay, I totally spiked all the drinks. But Jason dared me to!”

Accusing glances converge on Jason, who scoffs. “He thought he was being such a fuckin’ ninja, but the only reason he didn’t get caught was because everyone was already too drunk to notice him skulking around dumpin’ shit in drinks.”

Tim frowns, clearly thinking through the known events of the evening. “Wait. So now it’s understandable how the rest of us got completely wasted, but what about Bruce?” He turns to look at the older man, who looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“I… am not sure.” As ever, the man is reluctant as hell to admit to not knowing something.

The jovial tone of the group grows more serious as they all contemplate how and why Bruce might have been compromised, if not by any of them.

_Well fuck, maybe this is more serious than a hilarious and awkward series of unfortunate events… maybe there’s something worse at play here?_

Before Jason has time to chase that thought through to the multitude of possibilities awaiting him at the other end, each more horrifying than the last, the door swings open again and everyone turns, on their guard now, to see who came into the room.

As they all stare at the door in dread, fuckin’ _Selina Kyle_ swans into the room with her arms full of bags from which a fuckin’ _heavenly_ scent is wafting.

She walks right up to the bed, leaning over to greet Bruce with a kiss. “Good morning, husband!”

Jason isn’t sure, but he thinks the entire room breathed a massive sigh of relief in that moment.

 _Bad enough I may still be married to Demon or one of the aliens, but thank_ fuck _I ain’t married to B. There’s not enough therapy in the fuckin’_ world _to make that shit right._

Blithely unaware of how she’s turned everyone on their ear, or maybe (probably) just not caring, Selina continues brightly, “I hope your head isn’t aching too badly, but I _did_ warn you about accepting alcohol from _these_ little devils.” She shakes her head fondly at the girls, then smirks. “Of course, that was _after_ I managed to sneak up on you and spike your drink, so your decision-making processes were most likely already compromised.” She grins, wide and sharp.

Everyone in the room just stares at the lovely, dangerous woman, stunned, while Bruce visibly relaxes in obvious, _profound_ relief at the knowledge he did _not,_ in fact, marry any of his children.

Well, Jason can get behind that. _Thank fuck for Selina._

“Hello, son,” Selina presses a quick kiss to Damian’s forehead, sliding a pastry into his hand. “Son-in-law,” she kisses Jon’s cheek and gives him an entire bakery box, winking when the pair look at her wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. “You’re both a little young to be married, but I’m sure you’ll work it out.” They turn toward each other, blushing profusely, with tiny smiles twitching at their lips.

_Fuck yeah! I ain’t married to my baby bro or his little friend! Damn, that woulda been fucked up. Now it’s down to Timmy or the clone… wait, why is there an odd number of people? What the fuck, I better not be in some kinda polyamorous threeway with them… I want Timmy all to myself._

Spinning, Selina hands matching cupcakes to Cass and Steph. “Daughter, daughter-in-law. Congratulations, lovelies.” The girls break into matching grins and immediately begin whispering together and nibbling their delicious-looking cupcakes as Selina moves on.

Tim, Kon and Jason all stare at Selina, who is regarding them with a slow, knowing smirk. Jason feels a looming sense of horror.

 _I fuckin’ married the goddamn clone, didn’t I. God_ damn _it, I had a chance at_ Timmy, _and I blew it by either marrying his straight best friend or letting_ him _marry his straight best friend! Fuck my life. Fuck_ everything.

“Son,” Selina whispers with a smothered chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to Jason’s forehead.

He closes his eyes, not wanting to see her greeting his “husband”. _Stupid fuckin’ Kon,_ he thinks savagely. _Stupid fuckin’ Vegas mistakes._

“Other son. Congratulations, darlings, I’m sure you’ll figure things out in time. I think you’ll be very good together.”

Jason’s eyes fly open to meet Tim’s big blue eyes, wide and shocked. “I’m married to _you?”_ Tim squeaks, and Jason would take offense at the question except Tim’s tone is awed, _happy._

Jason grins, relief and joy swelling in his chest like something with wings is trying to break free. “Hey Baby. Guess so, but I think I might still owe you some husbandly _duties,_ if you know what I mean…” He eyes the slim boy in his arms and gives an exaggerated leer.

Tim snorts, blushing fiercely and obviously fighting laughter. _“Oh my god,_ Jay. Um, I’m not sure if I’m comfortable doing _that_ in front of an audience.”

_That wasn’t a no!_

Jason waggles his eyebrows suggestively, grin growing at the cute little smile Tim’s trying to hide. “C’mon, Timbo, we’re here together on our gigantic polyamorous marital bed. In fuckin’ _Vegas._ And as everyone knows, what happens on the gigantic polyamorous marital bed in Vegas—”

“-Scars absolutely all of us, for absolutely _ever,”_ Dick finishes brightly, throwing a donut at Jason and instigating an epic battle of delicious proportions that only ends when everyone is covered in powdered sugar and remnants of pastry, sprawled in varying degrees of exhaustion all over the gigantic polyamorous marital bed and each other.

“Wait, so who am _I_ married to?” Kon wonders, apparently just now realizing he’s the only one who hasn’t learned the identity of his spouse. A large glob of blueberry filling drips from the ceiling and he catches it in his mouth automatically, then leans back again to rest his head on Jason’s leg. “Mmm!”

“Oh, you didn’t get married to anyone, sweetheart, you just wanted a ring because otherwise you felt left out!” Selina smiles encouragingly at Kon from her position draped over Bruce’s shoulders, where she is carefully grooming bits of pastry out of his hair and then feeding them to him.

“Well that’s a relief!” Kon grins, then tosses half a muffin at his little brother who is cuddled up with Damian. “Not all of us want to be married off so young, you know.”

Jon catches the muffin and bites into it, never taking his eyes off Kon. “Whatever, you’re just jealous of my happiness.”

“Um, _no,_ you married a _Bat,_ that’s basically signing up for a lifetime of paranoia and lack of privacy.”

“Also _amazing_ sex!” Steph puts in from her position at the foot of the bed, to which Cass nods vigorously and Bruce face palms, clearly planning to forget the last twenty four hours through the sheer force of his will.

 _Good fuckin’ luck with_ that, _old man; I for one am gonna do my goddamn best to remind you of this shit whenever possible._ Jason grins in internal amusement at the pleasing thought.

“It’s true,” Dick contributes, causing Babs to chuckle and run her fingers through his hair while Bruce groans in dismay and Selina giggles.

Jason tilts his chin to look at Tim, who is draped over his chest, beatifically nibbling something that looks like a cupcake but smells strongly of coffee. “Fuck, looks like we’ve been missing out, Baby Bird. So, you _sure_ you’re not interested in consummating our accidental relationship?”

The corners of Jason’s mouth draw down at the thought of this whole wild, improbable possibility ending without ever really beginning, and he absentmindedly rubs Tim’s back, enjoying the closeness while he can.

 _At least we’ll always have the fuckin’ gigantic polyamorous marital bed in Vegas,_ he thinks wistfully.

Tim’s face tips up and his lips twitch in a shy, surprisingly sweet smile. “I never said _that,”_ he demurs, eyes dancing. “Just not interested in doing it with our closest family and friends watching. Or, you know, with _anyone_ watching.” He trails a hand along Jason’s shoulder. “I’d rather it just be the two of us, you know?”

 _Oh_ fuck _yes. Yes!_

Jason’s face lights up. “Yeah? You wanna get outta here, maybe find someplace a little more private? Get to know each other a little better, maybe catch up on those marital duties?” He waggles his eyebrows as suggestively as possible with a grin to get another adorable little smile and blush out of Timmy.

 _Fuck, he’s so much fun to tease. Cutest thing I ever saw, I’m_ never _gonna get tired of makin’ him smile._

Tim gathers up a few more of the coffee-flavored cupcakes from the jumbled mess on the covers, going so far as to collect one right off of an amused-looking Dick’s chest, and then tugs Jason away from the pile up on the bed, ignoring the protests as the others object good-naturedly to having hands and elbows jabbed into them on the way.

“Sounds _awesome,_ Jay.” And Tim looks up at him, squeezing his hand and smiling so brightly it warms Jason, right down to his toes.

They both ignore Bruce’s unwavering glare burning into their backs as they make for the door. Still, it’s a relief when Selina takes pity on them.

“Leave them alone, Bruce; after all, they’re married now. And the sooner all the kids clear out, the sooner we’ll have the room to _ourselves!”_ Selina’s cheerful tones serve to distract the Bat, whose answering grunt sounds interested.

_Fuckin’ gross. Dad-sex, sick. Whatever, not thinkin’ about that shit right now. I got way more important things._

Jason and Tim make it to the door before realizing all they’re wearing respectively is sweats and some red boxer briefs, not to mention the coating of powdered sugar and crumbs. “Well, maybe a shower first,” Tim says with a shockingly _filthy_ grin as he spins on his heel and fucking _struts_ toward the bathroom.

Jason stares after him, appreciating the view and wishing like fuck he could join Timmy for that shower.

 _But Timbo’s_ shy _, dammit, and I’m gonna be a good husband to him, so I’m not gonna push this shit. Not gonna do anything he ain’t ready for._

All Jason’s good intentions evaporate as Tim twists to look back over his shoulder at him, smoldering gaze nailing Jason in place. And all his thoughts fly out the window when _Tim_ fucking _growls,_ “You _coming?”_

 _Oh_ fuck _yeah!_

Jason almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to follow after his fuckin’ _husband._ He doesn’t even give a shit when the room erupts into giggles and groans behind them, or that someone he’s almost sure is _Damian_ whispers, “That’s what he said,” before dissolving into snickers.

All that matters is the slim, muscular body stepping into the shower in front of him and the brilliant, _wonderful_ person who turns to Jason with a smile and open arms, pulling him in, giving him a _chance,_ one he sure as hell doesn’t deserve.

Jason’s gonna make the most of it, and do his goddamn best to make sure Timmy never regrets trusting him, _giving_ him this.

_Fuck yeah._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, waking up in Dick’s arms in skeevy hotel room:** “Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ NO this is NOT happening” *Attempts to knock self unconscious to avoid facing horrible, incestuous reality of situation*  
>  **Dick, Kon, Tim, Jon, and Damian, all sitting up in various states of undress and eying each other awkwardly:** “Oh shit” *Notice rings on their hands* “Oh SHIT”  
>  **Bruce, popping out of pillow pile like a big scowly meer cat:** “We should analyze the fluids to determine who is married to whom. Quickly, remove the sheets and your underwear and hand them to me” *Whips out field kit and extends hand waiting for everyone to comply*  
>  **Everyone else, staring at Bruce in repulsed horror:** “FUCK no wtf you giant creepy creeper” *Skitter farther away from Bruce on the bed*  
>  **Selina and the girls, bursting in bearing coffee, breakfast, and tidings of great joy:** “Good news everyone! We know who’s married, and it’s the LEAST traumatizing permutation possible!” *Hand out food, kiss deeply relieved spouses*  
>  **Jason, clutching Tim joyfully:** “Thank FUCK, let’s get the fuck outta here before something worse happens” *Starts to drag Tim away from gigantic polyamorous marital bed*  
>  **Tim, slinking toward shower:** “OR we could consummate our union right here, right now” *Winks suggestively*  
>  **Jason, ignoring disapproval and horror radiating from Bruce:** “Oh FUCK yeah Babe let’s do it” *Disappears into shower with Tim, leaving everyone else in room to awkwardly avoid looking at bathroom door for next hour. Is deliberately louder than usual to increase B’s discomfort, DEEPLY enjoys discovery Tim’s a screamer*


	5. Accidental Baby Acquisition // Clones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the _fuck_ is that.” Everyone ignores Jason’s question, which, fuckin’ _fine,_ was mostly rhetorical in the sense that it’s really fuckin’ _obvious_ what that is, just… “Why the _hell_ does Ra’s al _fuckin’_ Ghul have a fuckin’ _baby_ in his goddamn evil lair?” 
> 
> No one answers that one either, probably because Red Robin’s too busy silently panicking and staring down at the tiny human he’s cradling in his arms as gingerly as if it were a live grenade.

“What the _fuck_ is that.” Everyone ignores Jason’s question, which, fuckin’ _fine,_ was mostly rhetorical in the sense that it’s really fuckin’ _obvious_ what that is, just… “Why the _hell_ does Ra’s al _fuckin’_ Ghul have a fuckin’ _baby_ in his goddamn evil lair?”

No one answers that one either, probably because Red Robin’s too busy silently panicking and staring down at the tiny human he’s cradling in his arms as gingerly as if it were a live grenade.

 _Poor bastard_ , Jason thinks, and he isn’t quite sure which of them he means.

Batman looks much the same as usual except for his sour expression as he tries to avoid looking directly at the other tiny bundle he somehow got stuck carrying.

The asshole keeps glancing over at Red Hood and Robin calculatingly and then looking away as he apparently remembers yeah, fuck, no one sane would ever trust either of them with a baby. Not that fuckin’ _Batman_ is much better at it, honestly, he’s holding the poor thing kinda like a football tucked under his arm and it’s whimpering and kicking in vociferous protest at the treatment.

Little Red’s doing better, cuddling the other kid close even though he looks like he might pass out from anxiety at any moment. And of fuckin’ _course_ they’re all stuck kicking their heels here in this creepy lab until Nightwing and Oracle finish clearing their escape route; all their detailed plans and Bat-style contingencies got thrown out the fuckin’ window when instead of weapons of mass destruction they found _surprise lab babies._

Because Ra’s is apparently just that fuckin’ awful.

Apparently even Bat-level paranoia can’t account for the sheer capacity for shittiness and insanity the worst of humanity has to offer.

As Jason watches, the baby in Red Robin’s arms emits an ominous gurgle and tilts its head up to stare right into Red Robin’s wide, terrified eyes as a miasma of horrific stench instantaneously fills the room, somehow causing Jason to gag even through his helmet.

“I think he needs a diaper change,” Red whispers, sounding wrecked.

_Fuck, Baby Bird looks like he’s about to tap out. I should probably do somethin’ to help, huh._

Red Hood grins. “Sure, sounds good. B, hand me your cape, Thing One needs a new diaper.”

Batman’s furious glare is almost enough to make this whole clusterfuck worth it, and when a moment later he actually wordlessly _hands Red Hood his cape_ with a sullen glower it feels like fuckin’ Christmas.

It’s even better when the baby B’s holding manages to creatively  pee around his diaper and get it all over the Batsuit while Red Hood and Red Robin are still trying to figure out how to make the cape into a reasonable diaper for the other kid.

It’s fuckin’ heartwarming, is what it is.

 _Damn, I think these little brats are growin’ on me already._ Jason grins as Batman bites back curses while holding the delightedly giggling baby away from the wet spot on his suit.

*

 _“Awww,”_ Dick coos, blowing raspberries on the adorable tiny baby’s tummy and grinning at the sweet laughs that bubble up. Bruce stares at him, looking almost betrayed for some reason. “What? Why are you Batglaring at me? Wait…” Dick stares back at Bruce for a moment, following the direction of his fixed gaze, and then raises a judging eyebrow. “Are you Batglaring at the _baby,_ Bruce?”

The baby in his arms turns and Batglares right back at Bruce, which would be hilarious except the kid has a tiny little Bruce-face and basically looks exactly like a mini-Damian, and the connotations of _that…_

_Welp, we already knew Ra’s is an asshole. Guess we shouldn’t be surprised he has a Damian-clone or two lying around. At least we managed to save them before he managed to do anything too horrible to them…_

He hopes. Dick looks at the babies again. They both seem to be around a year old, and they appear to be healthy and happy enough. It doesn’t seem likely they’ve been mistreated too badly yet, although from what he knows of Damian’s early life, they would likely have begun undergoing harsh training once they learned to walk.

_Why are people so horrible._

Tim and Jason both look up from where they’re playing with the other baby, who, huh, now that Dick is really looking at him, that one doesn’t actually look quite as much like Damian… Strange. That baby’s skin is really pale, for one thing, and his features are more delicate, with wider eyes…

_He looks really familiar anyway though. Oh well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually._

“Why does he prefer _you.”_ Bruce continues to Batglare at Dick and the mini-Damian. “He urinated on me and then wept until you took him from me, at which point he instantly calmed.” His eyes narrow.

“Don’t be all butthurt about that, B; Dickie’s real maternal, kids can probably sense it.” Jason grins, clearly pleased at managing to insult two of them with one sentence.

_It’s so nice Jason’s spending time with the family again._

“Well, he’s obviously Damian’s clone; maybe a preference for Dick is actually genetic.” Tim frowns, thinking about what he just said, and then blushes profusely. “Um, that didn’t come out right.” Jason snorts and Tim blushes harder.

The actual Damian huffs and crosses his arms. “Preferences aside, that infant is obviously _my_ clone; his appearance perfectly matches mine based on photographs and video footage from my infancy. We may easily conjecture as to Grandfather’s motivations in growing such a clone; perhaps a replacement for me, an heir, or simply another weapon in his ongoing feud with Father. Which leaves the obvious question.” He turns to stare at the other baby, narrowing his eyes as though doing so will enable him to discern the child’s secrets.

Tim nods, releasing a puff of breath as he cuddles the now-sleeping baby in his arms. “If that baby’s a clone of Damian, who’s _this_ little guy?”

But there’s a strange look on Tim’s face, and Dick suddenly has a feeling Tim already knows… and so does he. Those delicate, fine features, the color and shape of his eyes… And after all, it makes sense, considering Ra’s is all but obsessed with Tim and has been for years.

“Timmy?” Dick looks at his little brother hesitantly. “Is that baby… _you?”_ Peripherally, he is aware of Damian’s twitch, Jason’s growl and Bruce if anything growing even more still. But his attention is all on his younger brother, who is staring down at the baby in his arms and looking painfully young and vulnerable.

Tim swallows. “Um, so…” He bites his lip. “No, I’m pretty sure he isn’t a clone of me.”

Just as Dick begins to sigh in relief, Tim continues, whispering, “But I suspect… he’s mine.”

*

Tim huddles miserably in his chair, still holding the warm, relaxed little bundle cradled in his arms as the Batcomputer inexorably hums its way through the tests that will dictate his future. He hopes the tiny child will stay asleep just a while longer; he isn’t going to be able to deal with the stress of trying to soothe a crying infant _and_ the anxiety of waiting to find out the baby’s paternity.

“It’s fuckin’ _Ra’s,_ isn’t it,” Jason snarls as he paces aggressively back and forth across the Cave, big hand tangling in his hair and tugging viciously. “That fuckin’ _bastard_ made a kid usin’ his DNA and Timmy’s.” He stops suddenly, spinning around to look right at Tim with a laser-like focus. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” he says calmly, before turning to stride toward the exit.

“Jay, _stop!”_ Dick manages to snag Jason as he passes only because he’s still holding Damian’s clone in his other arm and Jason clearly doesn’t want to risk harming or waking the baby. “At least wait until we find out for sure.” He glances over at Bruce for support, then rolls his eyes as Bruce predictably completely ignores his surroundings to continue running his analysis at the Batcomputer.

Tim tunes out Dick and Jason’s ensuing whispered argument to study the soft, fragile little child in his arms. The baby has delicate bone structure, full pouting lips, and long black eyelashes, with fine, black hair on his little head that feels soft as down.

Both the children they found in the lab appear to be about a year old, but the other baby is already bigger than this one.

This child looks so much like Tim, only with what he fears may prove to be some of Damian’s features thrown in. It’s completely possible Damian or Ra’s is the other genetic donor, which…

_Ew._

If it’s Damian, ugh, _gross._ If it’s Ra’s, well. Tim will never be safe again. The rest of his life unfolds in his mind’s eye, alone with a vulnerable infant, on the run from an inexorable, powerful and quasi-immortal supervillain who will stop at _nothing_ to retrieve what he believes to belong to him.

Tim glances up and accidentally meets Jason’s eyes, seeing an unexpected flash of pain and sympathy.

 _Oh,_ he thinks. _Jason’s already thought about that, hasn’t he. That’s why he’s so angry right now._

Tim feels an upwelling of absurd gratitude at the older vigilante’s protectiveness, even though it probably has a lot more to do with the involvement of an innocent baby than any kindness toward Tim himself.

Whatever, Tim’s had a long time to get used to Jason hating him, he can manage.

A choked noise draws everyone’s attention back to the Batcomputer, where Bruce is staring at the screen with an expression of horror, his entire body tensed as though for a fight. Tim looks at the monitor, then wishes he hadn’t.

 _Well, that is definitely… unexpected. I didn’t even consider_ that _possibility. Also. Gross._

Tim stares at the screen in appalled disbelief, not quite able to comprehend what he is seeing.

“Jesus fuck, _B’s_ the other father? Holy fuckin’ shit, B you fuckin’ _dog!”_ Jason crows, because of _course_ he sees a bad situation and is constitutionally incapable of resisting the urge to immediately make things worse.

Bruce continues to stare mutely at the Batcomputer, ignoring Dick’s startled exclamations.

“Oh my god, _Bruce_ you and Timmy had a _baby_ together! Wait, does that make me an uncle or a brother? Oh my god, I never thought I would have to ask that question, now I feel all icky. _Why.”_

Damian sneers. “I shall not recognize _Drake’s_ child as my sibling! Introducing his feebleminded, weaker stock into our genetic line was a mistake on Grandfather’s part that shall not be allowed to stand!”

“Hey B, betcha thought you couldn’t fuck up worse with one of the little ones than you did with _me;_ guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always such a goddamn overachiever. Gotta say though, wouldn’t have thought you’d go so far as to fuckin’ _conceive a child_ with your _underage kid.”_

 _Oh my god Jason why, don’t imply that Bruce and I had sex unless you_ want _me to throw up right now. I swear I’ll aim so it gets all over your boots._

“I’m not underage,” Tim protests mechanically, still staring at the screen.

Jason rolls his eyes. “You woulda been when B knocked you up; you’ve only been eighteen for like a month.”

Tim goes pale and Bruce visibly gags before turning to glare silently at Jason.

“Ugh, _gross._ Wait, I’ve only been eighteen for a _month!_ I’m not ready to be a _single parent!”_ Tim blinks rapidly, his heart beginning to race as his mind starts spinning out of control, scenario after horrible scenario playing out in his mind’s eye of the baby, _his_ baby oh god, hurt or neglected in some way through his ignorance and incompetence. He starts panting.

 _How am I going to_ do _this?!_

Tim feels hands on his shoulders and looks up into Jason’s suddenly much closer, worried teal eyes as the older boy crowds in, hovering over him in concern.

“Jason,” Tim hisses in desperation, “I _can’t_ be given responsibility for a child! Babies can’t live on coffee and energy drinks, Jason! They need _food,_ and _naps,_ and age-appropriate intellectual stimulation, and _diapers,_ oh _god—”_

He starts hyperventilating, and then finds himself enveloped in a warm hug, a slow, steady rhythm in his ear settling him until he’s able to recognize it as Jason’s heartbeat.

He’s… in Jason’s arms? Both Tim and the baby are wrapped tightly in Jason’s embrace, being rocked gently back and forth as Dick and Damian bicker in the background and Bruce continues to stare uncomfortably with a slightly wild look in his eye at the tiny child in Tim’s arms.

“You’re not planning to let B raise it?” Jason murmurs eventually, once Tim has calmed down.

It’s almost enough to send Tim into a panic again. _“Obviously_ I'm not going to leave Bruce to raise it, just look at all the horrible mistakes he made with all of us!” Tim snaps.

Bruce flinches slightly and is summarily ignored.

“Aw, c’mon Timmy, he wasn’t _that_ bad. I mean, we turned out just fine, right?” Dick’s big smile falters as he looks around and meets only disbelieving stares from his brothers. “Right? …Guys?”

“Dick's been jumping around in booty shorts breaking laws since he was _nine,_ Jason _died_ and came back as a homicidal _zombie_ , I basically survive on coffee, anti-anxiety medication, and _spite,_ and then there’s _Damian.”_

After a short silence, Dick asks hesitantly, “Is… there more to that last one? It feels like it wasn’t a complete thought.” Dick tilts his head in curiosity.

Tim shrugs. “It's _Damian_ , I thought it was self-explanatory everything that’s wrong _there.”_

“You _cur,_ how _dare_ you—” Damian’s leap to attack Tim is interrupted by Bruce, who finally moves to collar his aggressive child.

“Don’t attack your brothers, Damian.”

“I refuse to acknowledge _Drake_ as my equal—”

“Really, ‘cause it seems like your _Gramps_ is pretty fuckin’ into Timmy here—” Jason cuts himself off with a curse as Tim flinches in his arms. “Shit, sorry Timbo.” He tightens his grip, looking down at Tim and the baby for a long moment while the other baby awakens and sends Dick, Bruce and Damian into a flurry as they all try to calm his loud, angry wailing.

“I’m not ready to be a dad, Jay,” Tim whispers, not really expecting support but at least fairly confident Jason won’t actively try to hurt him while he has a baby in his arms.

Actually, Jason’s been surprisingly considerate throughout this whole ordeal. Maybe Tim should make a habit of only interacting with the most volatile of the former Robins while holding a baby in his arms.

 _Ugh, baby as human shield,_ _no brain that’s a terrible idea. I need sleep._

“You’ll do fine, Timmy,” Jason tells him, then hesitates. “And you won’t be alone.” He sets his jaw determinedly.

Tim tips his head back against Jason’s chest and huffs a quiet, sad little laugh. “Jay, Alfred’s going to have his hands full with these idiots, he’s not going to have any time to come over to my apartment and help me when I’m panicking because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Jason laughs, his face stretching into an easy grin, and has he always been this _handsome?_

_Wow, brain, don’t go there. Caution, danger ahead._

“Not Alfie, you’re right in that he’s gonna have his hands full dealin’ with these knuckleheads. No, I mean, _I_ can help. I got plenty of experience takin’ care of babies from when I was a kid. Used to watch babies for the workin’ girls who lived in our apartments all the time.” His confident grin falls slightly. “I mean, if you want me to.”

And that. Is _not_ something Tim would’ve ever expected from Jason. But their interactions over the last few months are playing in his mind’s eye, and he’s shocked at the realization that the other boy hasn’t been acting aggressively toward Tim lately, hasn’t tried to hurt him even once since he began making real steps to play nice with the family again.

In _fact…_

Huh. Now all those awkward nights when Red Hood randomly showed up on his patrol route with bags of takeout and flimsy excuses about accidentally buying too much have a different connotation. Also the numerous times Red Robin was engaged in a tough fight, and Red Hood dropped out of freaking _nowhere_ to beat the shit out of his opponents.

_Maybe Jason wants to be friends now._

Jason’s eyes flick back and forth across Tim’s face as he completely fails to hide his sheer surprise at the offer. And yet, it’s surprisingly easy to imagine from where he sits wrapped in Jason’s strong arms.

Whatever Jason sees in Tim’s face makes him smirk and lean down to _kiss Tim’s hair,_ making Tim’s face heat furiously. “We’ll figure it out, Timbo. I won’t leave you to deal with this alone.” And Jason grins like a bastard. “After all, Jason Junior needs a daddy.”

 _Oh holy_ shit, _maybe it isn’t being_ friends _Jason is after…_

Well, in that case the random vases of flowers that keep appearing in his apartment make more sense. Tim tips his head and considers the possibility Jason’s the one who’s been leaving those for him, which would be a _huge_ relief considering he’d thought Ra’s was the one doing it.

_Stupid creepy old lech…_

Tim’s pretty sure it was Jason. _I guess that explains why the flowers were never poisoned and didn’t have disturbing messages on them. I just thought Ra’s was trying to class it up, but this makes way more sense._

Bruce’s head whips toward them from across the room where he has been awkwardly bouncing and rocking Damian’s demonically shrieking little clone while Dick attempts to entertain the little beast by performing flips and juggling in midair as Damian himself watches with an air of evil satisfaction. “No.”

“Oh my god,” Tim whispers, stunned, as Jason leans over his shoulder to press a gentle kiss to the sleeping baby’s soft little cheek. “Jason, _no.”_

“Jason Junior,” Jason whispers smugly. _“Yes.”_

*

“Jay, were you expecting someone?” Tim absently strokes Liam’s hair as the two year-old clutches at his legs, laughing uproariously and generally making an adorable little nuisance of himself. “Yes, kiddo, I know you’re excited the doorbell rang, but you’ll be way less entertained if Daddy trips over you and falls on his face.”

“Don’t lie to the kid, Baby, you know that’d be entertaining as fu—” Jason redirects quickly as Tim lifts a warning brow in his direction. “Fudge.” He smiles an apology and Tim rolls his eyes, finally reaching the door and then freezing at what he sees when he opens it.

There’s a basket on the ground in front of their door. Tim stares at it for a full minute, mind screeching to a halt at its contents.

There’s a _baby_ in the basket.

Tim’s life is a horrible joke and he’s the punchline.

“Hey Timmy, what’s wrong—” Jason’s inquiry cuts off abruptly as he catches sight of the tiny, wiggling human cooing up at them from the nest of blankets tucked into the woven basket at their feet. “Oh Jesus fuckin’ Christ, _really?_ For fuck’s sake, is that shrinkled old fart gonna send us another one every year like a goddamn Christmas card? Baby, _Timmy,_ I love you an’ all, and I’ll willingly help raise every damn one of those brats and love every moment of it, but what the _fuck.”_

“Fu! Fuck! …Fuuuuuck!” They both close their eyes in mutual despair for a moment at the tiny, happy little voice, and Jason has the grace to look ashamed of his misdeeds.

“Sorry, Baby Bird.” Stooping to scoop up the new infant, who looks _really_ small, even smaller than Liam was when they got him, Jason involuntarily smiles down at the little one. “’S got your eyes, at least. Wonder if Ra’s is the other donor this time around, or if it’s B again.”

Tim spots a sheet of paper tucked into the folds of the blankets and twitches it free. His mouth drops open in astonishment as he reads it. Apparently it’s a girl. He keeps reading, and—

_Holy shit._

“Oh my _god,_ Jason…!”

_What even is our life. Wow._

“Huh?” His boyfriend twists to read over his shoulder. “Oh fuck, it’s _me?”_ His voice is awed.

Wonderingly, Jason looks again at the little face. The baby blinks up at him and gurgles, dimpling into an adorable toothless grin. “Damn, that _is_ my jawline, isn’t it? Poor baby girl. Fuck, sorry sweetie, you don’t deserve to be saddled with that. At least she looks mostly like you, gonna be a heartbreaker just like her daddy.”

Tim just blinks down at his daughter. _Their_ daughter. “What are the chances we can actually trust what Talia says in the note?”

“What, that she confiscated her nutso dad’s cloning supplies and locked him up till the crazy wears off a bit from his latest wallow in the creepy-ass jungle juice?” Jason tilts his head, then shrugs dismissively. “Well, we know in the past Ra’s has disappeared for a few years at a time after takin’ a swim in the Pit; it makes sense to me Talia would make a judgement call when her clearly insane father keeps throwin’ his enemies’ spooge in the science blender and makin’ brats for some deranged plan that only makes sense in his scrambled brains.”

Tim blanches, glancing down quickly in the hopes Liam isn’t paying attention to his Papa’s language. Of _course_ the toddler is staring right up at them, wide eyed and impressionable. _Great_. “Ugh, what a mental image.” Tim does _not_ want to think about his and Bruce’s… _spooge, Jason why…_ mixing together in a science blender.

_Gross._

Tim sighs, thumbing a quick message into his phone. “Okay, I just texted B to update him about the Ra’s situation…” His eyes widen as his phone lights up and he reads the rapid succession of incoming texts, then begins snorting with horrified laughter. “Oh _god—”_

“What…?” Jason’s smiling, still enraptured by their daughter as he half-turns to look at Tim.

Tim turns his phone so Jason can read, then watches his expressive brows fly up in surprise and wicked amusement. “Oh _shit._ Wow. _Two more new babies at the Manor?”_

“Yup,” Tim confirms. “Bruce is going to go gray from stress by the end of the year at this rate.”

Jason breaks into deep peals of laughter, waking the baby girl in his arms and causing Liam to begin jumping excitedly around his feet. “Here, little man, time to meet your baby sister,” he says, sweeping his boy up in his arms to settle on one hip where the toddler eagerly clutches his shirt and leans across to grin at the new baby, who watches him with interest and intelligence in her wide blue eyes.

Tim presses up against Jason’s side, smiling down at _their kids_ , then startles slightly as his phone rings in his hand. “Oh, hey B,” he answers it.

Jay grins and gestures for him to put Bruce on speakerphone. “Yo B, how’s it goin’. Heard you got a couple more little rugrats courtesy the world’s worst great-grandpa.”

A long, tired sigh is the only reply, which doesn’t discourage Jason in the least. “So you got any idea who the donors are this time?” Jason’s predatory smile widens and Tim has the sudden urge to hang up the phone so he doesn’t have to hear whatever horrors are about to come out of Jason’s mouth.

He resists. After all, Jay deserves to have fun. And Bruce can stand to be taken down a peg or two every once in a while. But, he gently presses Liam’s head to Jason’s chest and holds it there with his hand so their toddler doesn’t pick up any more _interesting_ new vocabulary from the conversation. The little boy allows it, still completely enthralled with staring at his new sister who is staring right back, just as interested, and reaching out to clutch at his hand with her tiny little fingers.

“So, I’m gonna assume neither of ‘em has any input from me or Timmy, or Talia woulda dropped ‘em off here like our new baby girl. C’mon B, let it out! Tell us which of your kids you conceived a child with this time! It was Dickie, wasn’t it. Damn, old man, you just couldn’t resist his—”

Bruce lets out a choked, horrified sounding noise, then grates out, “No.”

“Oh, fuck! So you had a brat with _Damian?_ Holy shit, B, I wouldn’t have thought it of you, I mean, not only is he your actual bio kid, he’s also still _underage—”_

This time Bruce just sounds exhausted. “No.” After a short silence, he continues, “But that is a closer guess.”

“So who are the donors this time? If you know.” Tim is curious, although of course the parentage ultimately will make no difference whatsoever in the amount of love and care with which each child will grow up.

“Damians.” Bruce sounds awful.

Tim frowns. “They’re Damian’s? And who is the other donor?”

“No.” Bruce sighs again. “They _are_ Damians. More of his clones.” He swallows audibly. “Both of them.”

And oh, _shit._ Alexander has been a handful and a half, keeping all three of his main caretakers on their toes. Even with Bruce, Alfred, and occasionally Dick to help, that little boy manages to get into every kind of mischief. And now they’ve been saddled with _two more._

_Welp, better B than us._

A crash followed by the sound of something shattering resounds through the phone speaker, and Jason and Tim both stare at it in concern as Liam laughs and tries to grasp the phone. Tim automatically holds it out of his reach, knowing if he gets a hold of it the toddler will immediately punch the red ‘end call’ button, giggling like a maniac.

They can hear Bruce cursing quietly under his breath in multiple languages as Damian’s strident, demanding tones rise in the background. “Charlemagne, you must not throw vases at your brother. I shall train you to use shuriken and throwing knives instead. Alexander, strive to be a better example to your younger brothers. Here, demonstrate with this throwing knife.”

A quick, muffled argument breaks out in which Bruce apparently manages to remove all shuriken and throwing knives from his various sons’ persons, lecturing them tiredly about personal safety and responsibility all the while in the exhausted tones of a man who knows his words are falling on deaf ears.

Tim and Jason manage to muffle their laughter right up until the point Bruce tries to convince Damian he doesn’t have permission to name his brothers. “Damian, you cannot name your newest little brothers Charlemagne and Julius Caesar.”

“Why not, Father? I named Alexander and you did not protest!”

“…I was in shock. Also, Alexander is a perfectly acceptable name which will not stand out in the modern business world.” Bruce hesitates. “Why not name one of them after your grandfather? Thomas is a good, traditional name.”

As Damian sputters and the toddlers laugh and shout and generally raise a ruckus, Alfred’s calm, collected tones break into the conversation. “Perhaps Charles instead, as a compromise, young Master? And Julius would make a fine middle name, with Thomas as the first.”

A silence indicative of agreement falls over the line, and then Alfred clears his throat. “Ah, young Masters Jason and Tim, perhaps you would consider joining us for dinner this evening so everyone may be introduced to all the new additions to the family.”

Knowing the invitation is more of an order considering it’s coming from Alfred, Tim bites back his snickers at the whole crazy mess and replies. “Of course, Alfred. We’ll see you tonight!”

Hanging up the phone, he turns to his chuckling boyfriend who breaks into boisterous laughter again when their eyes meet. “Three Damians, four if you count the big one. B’s not even gonna know what hit him, Jesus _Christ._ It’s almost enough to feel sorry for the poor fu- uh, jerk.” Jason grins, shaking his head. _“Almost.”_

He hands Tim their new daughter, and they head back into the house together, Liam babbling excitedly about going to see Grampa Bruce and Dami and Zander and show off his new baby.

 _Our life is gloriously insane. And I wouldn’t change a_ thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, clutching tiny screaming poo-factory, ranting, with crazy eyes:** “He’s hungry! I need a bottle, babies drink their coffee from bottles right?! RIGHT?!” *Looks to horrified family for confirmation, begins slowly reaching for a Red Bull*  
>  **Jason, grabbing Tim and baby and clutching them both protectively close:** “Oh dear FUCK NO Tim babies do NOT drink coffee Jesus fuck how are you even a genius” *Removes Red Bull from Tim’s hand before Tim manages to feed it to baby*  
>  **Dick, bouncing Dami-clone and cooing:** “Awww Jason’s a natural! Unlike SOME people, YOINK!” *Reaches out and captures Bruce, who was edging surreptitiously toward exit* “Raise your children, B!”  
>  **Bruce, staring at assembled children in a panic:** “At least Tim and Jason are raising one of the babies so I only have to deal with one”  
>  **Talia, tossing several more babies into the Cave:** “You guys missed a few!” *Runs off cackling to lead the League of Shadows*  
>  **Bruce, covered in squalling infants:** “MotherFU—” *Cuts off due to Dick slapping a hand over his mouth*  
>  **Dick, bouncing Damian on his hip maternally:** “Not around the BABIES, Bruce!” *Begins juggling multiple infants, to Bruce’s abject dismay*  
>  **Bruce, giving up:** “If anyone needs me I’ll be at the Batcomputer, ordering All The Diapers” *Trudges away. Looks back briefly at scads of adorable children covering every surface in the Cave. Smiles.*


	6. Mafia // Bodyswap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like Jason, but _not._ It’s his body all right, but the carriage is all wrong. He’s walking in tiny, shuffling steps, all hunched over like an old man. Which, okay, Tim should’ve probably expected that based on everything he’s learned tonight. Still, it’s weird as _hell_ seeing Jason Motherfucking Todd moving like that. To crown it all, he’s wearing _tweed pants_ Tim didn’t even know Jason _owned_ pulled up to his armpits, a plaid shirt, suspenders, and fluffy bunny house slippers with wool socks. 
> 
> _“Oh my god,”_ Tim whispers.

Tim sits tensely at the kitchen table, arms folded across his chest, and directs a narrow-eyed stare at the wizened old man seated across from him who is _claiming to be Jason._

The guy’s currently hunched defensively in Jason’s usual chair, studiously avoiding meeting his eyes while Tim grinds his teeth and takes a moment to imagine a beautiful, wonderful world where _this isn’t his life._

 _God damn it, Jay. I can’t believe I was gone for six measly days on a mission and I came home to_ this. _I just wanted a little post-mission shower, take-out, sex and sleep, in whatever order; why,_ why _is that too much to ask?_

He rolls his eyes at the inanity of his own rhetorical question; of _course_ it’s too much to ask. This is Gotham, he’s a vigilante, and he’s dating the Red Hood; nothing in his life will ever approximate _normal._

Tim sighs, gaze tracking over the man in front of him again, taking note of the tousled, thinning white hair, bushy eyebrows beetling over dark, rheumy eyes, the curved Roman nose, and weathered, wrinkled and age-spotted skin. This man is only marginally taller than Tim himself and probably weighs even less, thin and stooped and harmless-looking.

Absolutely _nothing_ like Jason, which makes the fact that this random, potentially crazy and/or dangerous old man is _wearing Jason’s favorite shirt_ even more bizarre.

Although it does lend some credence to his wild claims.

“So assuming for the sake of argument I choose to believe the elaborate body swap story you just gave me when I opened the door and _found you wandering around my house_ , which I am _not_ saying I do…” The old man winces and attempts to hunch even further in on himself, curved shoulders lowering and palsied hands clutching at the table.

 _Geez, I feel like such an asshole, yelling at an old man. Still, he_ did _break into our house and claim to be Jason… If he_ is _Jason, we need to figure out what happened and get him changed back._

 _And if he_ isn’t _Jason, then for him to know everything he told me to prove his identity… all about our relationship, the Bat family and our identities, and Jason’s own history, well… that can’t mean anything good. I_ have _to investigate and get to the bottom of this. And besides, talking to him will work to distract this guy until Zatanna texts me back with a yes or no on whether or not a bodyswap legitimately took place and if this guy is really Jay mentally._

_Damn, gotta love that long-distance magic detection stuff she does. Just wish I didn’t need to use it._

“…What I want to know is why Jason wouldn’t have just _told_ me he was working a case on the Moretti family. Because we _tell each other_ important things, good communication’s one of the foundational promises we laid down when we decided to give dating each other a try.”

The old man’s brows twitch and he gives Tim a filthy smirk which, while probably endearing had it been on Jason’s normal face, comes across as super skeevy and disturbing in this setting.

_Oh god stranger danger!_

Tim recoils slightly and the guy chuckles, humor lightening his eyes as he speaks. “I remember it a little differently, Baby Bird; I mean, we were basically screwin’ each other on the regular and all but livin’ together before either of us even fuckin’ _admitted_ we were dating each other. Did everything ass-fuckin’ backwards.” He smiles fondly at the memory and Tim makes a face, still kind of weirded out by some old guy pretending to be his boyfriend and talking to him about such intimate, private subjects.

His phone chimes and he glances down at Zatanna’s text. Confirmation.

 _Well fuck. This is totally for-realsies legitimately Jason, just body swapped with some random old dude._ Tim frowns, then shrugs. _Well, it could be worse. At least Z says the spell will wear off on its own in a few days._

“Was that Z? Does this mean you’re ready to quit lookin’ at me like I’m about to whip out a grenade or transform into a fuckin’ demon or somethin’?” Old Dude Jay looks at Tim expectantly and he huffs a little laugh, running a hand through his already-tousled, sparse hair. He makes a little face as he does so, apparently still not accustomed to the feel of the new body.

Of course Jason knew exactly what Tim was doing, trying to stall while getting confirmation from an outside source.

Well, at least now it’ll be easier to get to the bottom of this, without all the worries about whether or not he’s talking to an enemy.

“Yeah, it was Z. You’ll be glad to know whatever magical fuckery you got into while I was gone, she thinks it’ll wear off without help within a few days.” Old Dude Jay looks seriously relieved before twitching guiltily as Tim continues. “So now with _that_ out of the way, what the _fuck_ were you thinking, getting in so deep with the Moretti case while I was gone?”

Old Dude Jay scowls darkly, his entire face squinching up unpleasantly like he bit a lemon. “What, I gotta have your fuckin’ _permission_ now to work my own cases?”

Tim backtracks quickly, realizing the last thing they need is a fight right now. Even if all the confusion, fear and adrenalin running through his system is _screaming_ for an outlet at the moment, he needs to keep a lid on it because _one_ of them has to be in control during this conversation and chances are it isn’t going to be Jason.

“Of course not, Jay. I’m just…” Tim frowns. “I worry about you, okay? And when you take risks like that when I’m not even around to help you or provide backup…” He closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to imagine all the other ways Jason’s involvement with the Morettis could have gone wrong. Ways that end with body bags instead of weird magical accidents.

“Damn it, Baby Bird. You’re fuckin’ right, I’m sorry. I shoulda told you. And I was gonna, when I found out the Morettis were gaining a foothold in Gotham again.” Old Dude Jay shakes his head, then covers his eyes, rubbing at them tiredly.

Tim finds himself staring, struck by the incongruity of seeing Jason’s gestures on this unfamiliar body.

“But once I found out what the fuck they were up to, I couldn’t wait for you to get back, and I fuckin’ _knew_ you’d fight me on it if I told you what I planned to do without backup. It ain’t just the usual, Timbo; I wouldn’t have dug into this shit so deep if they were just your run-of-the-mill mafia balls deep in protection rackets, extortion, prostitution and gambling.” Old Dude Jay closes his rheumy eyes, looking like he’s going to be sick.

And _oh._

Tim knows there are only a few things that make Jason look like that. Well, unless he’s having indigestion or a cardiac episode or something; Tim’s really not calibrated to read Jason’s microexpressions when the other man’s using a borrowed body.

But still. It’s almost sure to be—

“…Child trafficking, and dealin’ to fuckin’ kids.”

 _Yep. Called it._ Tim’s heart aches at the thought of Jason, facing down his oldest demons alone. _Oh Jay… If only I’d been here._

“Those shitheads had a whole goddamn fucked up system in place to drag those kids to hell.” Old Dude Jay’s voice breaks and Tim wants to stop him, protect him from reliving whatever horrors he’s seen, but knows sometimes it’s better to let the poison out, even if doing so hurts.

“They’d send the fuckin’ dealers in to hang around the schools in the shitty parts of town no one cares about. Then once they had ‘em hooked, they’d use the drugs as fuckin’ _bait_ to get the kids they’d tagged as most vulnerable, the ones no one’d miss, and sell ‘em.” He rubs his eyes again with a hand that’s shaking slightly.

“But you got them, right?” Tim keeps his voice light and non-confrontational, not wanting to escalate the situation. Jason’s got a pretty good handle on the Pit most days, but it’s always right there lurking beneath the surface, ready to come roaring out with the right (or _wrong)_ provocation.

The shit-eating grin that’s pure _Jason_ juxtaposed on the wrinkled, thin-lipped old face is almost enough to make Tim’s head spin. _So weird._

 _No matter how long I exist in a world with clones, aliens, and magic, I will_ never _get used to this bullshit._

“Got an inside informant who couldn’t stomach the shit they were pulling here in Gotham. He wanted out, gave me everything I needed to burn ‘em to the ground.” At Tim’s raised brows, Old Dude Jay scoffs. “Through fuckin’ _legal channels_ and everything, don’t look at me like that. Anyway, the problem was they got wise right before the cops closed in for the bust. Wanted to interrogate my informant, probably woulda shot him for revenge if I hadn’t jumped in.”

Tim winces, imagining Red Hood dropping in alone on what was probably a large gathering of armed mafia higher-ups and their even better armed bodyguards, all to defend a criminal informant who’d been feeding Red Hood a little too much information for his own good. “Jesus. Okay. So somehow this story ends with a bodyswap for you?”

Old Dude Jason snorts, shaking his head. “Those morons didn’t just wanna shoot Louie; they wanted a full on confession outa him, along with details on who he was passing along the info to and how to get to me. They didn’t trust traditional interrogation methods, guess they figured an old fart like him’d have a fuckin’ heart attack before they could torture it outta him, so they used some freaky magic bullshit they bought on the black market.”

Tim tilts his head, trying to figure out how a bodyswap could _possibly_ work to give the mafia what they wanted. And… “They had no idea how it worked, did they.”

Old Dude Jason smirks. “Nope! Was supposed to be some kinda truth spell, but obviously _that_ was a crock of shit. I’m pretty sure they got fuckin’ swindled, to be honest. Anyway, they pointed their little magic doohickey at Louie, I jumped in between him and the gun—”

 _“Damn it,_ Jay!”

“Sorry, Baby, but he was only involved ‘cause of me. Was my responsibility.”

“No, he was _involved_ because he was a goddamn _Mafioso_ for most of his life, right up until his organization’s criminal activities went too far even for _him!”_

Old Dude Jay grins, exposing yellowed teeth and crinkling the skin around his eyes so much they nearly disappear. It’s weirdly charming. “Whatever. Anyway, they zapped us with the gun, we switched bodies, and Louie managed to fend them all off by shooting my guns wildly through the air and yelling profanity at them in Italian until I had a chance to untie myself and hobble to safety.” Jason rubs his back and sighs. “Fuckin’ osteoporosis, man. It’s a goddamn _bitch.”_

Tim blinks, horrified at the sheer danger of the situation and trying not to imagine his beloved boyfriend’s body filled with bullet holes. Looking at the unfamiliar old face across from him at the table _does not help_ in reassuring him one bit _,_ and at that moment a horrible thought occurs to him.

 _Jason’s here, but he’s in a different body. What if his_ real _body,_ Jay’s _body, is lying somewhere right now, cold and… and…_ dead?

He gasps in agony at the thought of Jason’s smile, his beautiful teal eyes, those big warm hands and strong arms that are so good at holding Tim close, his sexy thick thighs and stupidly soft curly hair- just, _all_ of it, _Jason,_ hurt and bloody and cold and- and- _dead—_

_NO._

“Oh god, _Jason,_ is your body still…?”

He can’t even finish the terrible thought aloud, but Old Dude Jay immediately understands. “Oh, yeah, Louie’s in my body now, he’s fine. We both got out okay, and the cops busted the meeting not a minute after we left. Was a fuckin’ nightmare trying to grapple back with Louie though; he had the big beefy muscles but no fuckin’ clue how to work a grapple, and I had the know-how but just these shrimpy little arms to work with.” Old Dude Jay chuckles, grinning easily. “Gives me an idea what it’s like to be you, actually.”

“Hey!”

“What? You’re itty-bitty, Baby Bird; now that I see things from your point of view, I understand why you always yell at me when I put the coffee cups away too high.”

Tim shrugs in acknowledgement, mollified. It _does_ suck when Jay puts the damn coffee cups away on the top shelf, and it’ll be great if he gains an important life lesson from this experience and _quits doing that_.

Still… “I don’t have shrimpy little arms!”

Old Dude Jason just looks at him and raises one bushy brow, dark eyes dropping to where Tim’s admittedly slender, though respectably well-muscled arms are still crossed over his chest.

He unfolds them with a sigh. “Well, compared to a tank like _you,_ basically _everyone’s_ arms are shrimpy. It isn’t a fair comparison!”

Old Dude Jason smiles smugly, proud of his usual physique.

Tim inhales slowly, allowing the tension and worry to drain away as he comes to the realization that they’re safe, nothing horrible is about to happen, and everything is, well, not _okay_ exactly, but likely to work out on its own within a few days.

He huffs a quiet little laugh. “Well, I guess post-mission sex is off the table now.”

Old Dude Jay’s eyes light up with unholy glee and Tim glares at him freezingly. _“No,”_ he bites out, unwilling to explore any of the horrible, unspeakably unsexy ideas Jason’s clearly bursting to tell him about.

Old Dude Jay droops sadly, then opens his mouth to say something anyway. He freezes guiltily, mouth still hanging open, when at that moment _Jason’s usual body_ emerges from the guest bedroom and shuffles obliviously out right past them toward the kitchen.

Tim gapes, turning to follow the apparition with his eyes.

It looks like Jason, but _not._ It’s his body all right, but the carriage is all wrong. He’s walking in tiny, shuffling steps, all hunched over like an old man. Which, okay, Tim should’ve probably expected that based on everything he’s learned tonight. Still, it’s weird as _hell_ seeing Jason Motherfucking Todd moving like that. To crown it all, he’s wearing _tweed pants_ Tim didn’t even know Jason _owned_ pulled up to his armpits, a plaid shirt, suspenders, and fluffy bunny house slippers with wool socks. All crowned with a tatty, threadbare bathrobe of indeterminate color that Tim itches to rip off him, throw away, and then disinfect his hands for good measure.

 _“Oh my god,”_ Tim whispers, unable to look away from the insanity.

Jason and Tim both watch in absolute silence as Jason’s body slowly, painstakingly straightens its back marginally to reach up and retrieve a glass from the cupboard over the counter and then fill it at the sink, groaning slightly at the stretch.

Old Dude Jay cringes as Tim turns back to him, baleful glare lasering in on his face. “You brought the criminal informant _here?”_ Tim hisses, horrified. “To _our home?_ He’s an informant but that doesn’t mean we can just _trust him—”_

“Well what the fuck was I _supposed_ to do, just let him wander around _Gotham_ in my fuckin’ _body?_ He can’t go back to his normal life lookin’ like _that.”_

Old Dude Jay frowns, looking slightly guilty. “Or at all, actually. We locked up the local bunch, but the extended mafia family already has it in for him. Even without him spilling the beans when they did that fuckin’ mess with the not-actually-a-truth-spell, they were already suspicious as fuck on account of all the inside information he already gave me. Hell, _I_ shouldn’t fuckin’ leave the house till this shit wears off, or they’ll kill me ‘cause they’ll think I’m _him.”_

Tim bites his lip, then sits back with a sigh. “You’re right. Anyway, we should probably keep you two near each other until you switch back, just in case there’s a proximity limitation for the spell to undo itself.”

Jason nods, and as one they both turn back to stare at Jason’s body, which is now drinking a glass of water in the kitchen. It’s oddly mesmerizing.

“This is weird as fuck,” Jason whispers, and Tim nods, wide eyed.

Jason’s body’s gaze sweeps over them as he brings the cup to his lips again and then he blinks, squints, and looks surprised, then breaks into a pleased smile. _“Cosa?_ Is this your young man, _Polpetto?”_ His voice is high and a bit quivery, with a pleasant Italian accent. _“Buongiorno_ to the little _Tesoro!”_

It’s nothing like Jason’s normal voice, and it’s _hilarious as shit._

 _Especially because he just called me_ treasure _in Italian and Jason_ meatball _oh my god I think this guy might be starting to grow on me._

Tim starts snickering under his breath and Jason blushes ferociously.

“Yeah, Louie. This here’s my boyfriend, Timmy.” Old Dude Jay waves a hand toward Tim and the guy in Jason’s body, _Louie,_ shuffles forward another few steps to beam happily at them both.

“Ah, true love, it’s a beautiful goddamn thing. Not for me though; too messy, too much work. Never was into the sex, y’know. Guess that’s why I never understood what everyone was yapping on about, girls this and boys that. Me, gimme a nice pasta, I’m happy. _Vita mia_ is good food. But don’t listen to me, I’m just an old man.”

They blink up at him, momentarily stunned speechless.

Apparently not requiring an answer, Louie smiles happily at them with Jason’s face before shuffling unhurriedly back to the kitchen where he lays out ingredients, stooping and reaching with such care and moving so slowly it’s almost painful to watch. Glancing their way, the man smiles again at their mute stares, bright eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Today, I show you _pasta al fiori di zucco_. Eh? Eh, I make the _ciabatta_ the right way, you’ll see, _molto bene!”_ He kisses his fingertips passionately before returning to his cooking, muttering to himself occasionally in Italian as he putters around the kitchen in slow-moving excitement and splashes something into a pan from which a _delicious_ scent is already wafting.

“Jason…” Tim says slowly. “Is the Mafioso who’s currently in your body due to an unforeseeable magical mishap actually offering to cook us traditional homemade Italian meals right now?” His brows draw together in a frown. “It already smells _incredible,_ but somehow I feel like trusting food cooked by a random Mafioso is a poor idea? Only I really really want to try it.”

Old Dude Jay looks away, shifting guiltily in his seat as Louie calls out happily from the kitchen, “Eh? You like my _cucina povera_ so much yesterday, I make you the _zuppa Toscana_ tonight. And tomorrow, the spinach tomato tortellini. And at the end of the week, we clean the fridge, dump it all in the pot, make some nice minestrone!”

He drops something into a pot of water and begins humming something cheerful and vaguely familiar.

Tim wrinkles his nose automatically at the thought of eating soup made out of whatever weird, possibly ancient leftovers the man manages to unearth in their fridge. _Gross. Ugh, guess I better clean the fridge before then. Also…_

“So you’ve already been eating food made by the random Mafioso?”

Old Dude Jay shrugs, completely unrepentant. “Fuck, Timbo, Louie missed his fuckin’ callin’, okay. He was fuckin’ _wasted_ as a Mafia accountant, shoulda been a chef all along.”

He gives Tim a surprisingly sweet smile. “His arthritis has been too bad to get much cookin’ done for a few years now, so he’s fuckin’ over the moon for the chance to do it in my body.” He coughs. “Uh, and yeah, also. He’s ace, as you may have gathered from what he said a minute ago, but he totally offered to let us use his body in _any way we want_ for however long this lasts.”

Tim recoils in visceral horror. _“Jason!_ Not that I don’t love you for _you,_ whatever your body happens to look like… but for the love of _Batman_ please tell me you don’t expect me to have sex with you while you’re in that body.”

Old Dude Jay looks at him seriously for a long enough moment Tim has a sinking feeling he’s going to have to either deal with a lot of hurt feelings, or suck it up and do a bunch of research on Viagra. _Oh god why is this my life._

Tim’s mind begins unwillingly developing detailed contingencies for how best to pleasure each other without exacerbating Jason’s arthritis or any underlying heart conditions his current body may possess.

 _Viagra, heart medication, and I’ll do all the work. I could give him blow jobs, maybe ride him…_ He winces, picturing it. _Blindfold! I’ll need to wear a blindfold._

Old Dude Jay takes one look at the expression on Tim’s face and he breaks into loud guffaws of laughter. “Oh, _fuck,_ Baby Bird, _Baby,_ of fuckin’ _course_ I don’t expect us to have sex while I’m like this holy shit that’s fucked up.” His chortles slow down, and he grins fondly, shaking his head at Tim. “You were really thinkin’ about doin’ it though, weren’t you, because you thought that’s what I wanted?”

Blushing furiously, Tim shrugs and looks away. Old Dude Jay reaches across the table and catches his hand, rubbing it softly with fingers that don’t quite straighten out. “Fuck, Baby, I don’t deserve you,” he breathes.

From the kitchen, Louie’s humming grows louder and then Jason’s rich bass voice rises up softly in melodious song, “ _When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore!”_

Tim meets Old Dude Jay’s eyes, and he can’t quite suppress the giggles that bubble up at the ridiculousness of this moment.

Extremely relieved his boyfriend is apparently cool with taking a break from the physical side of their relationship until things are back to normal, Tim considers the problem of their accidental houseguest for a moment.

Well, the Mafioso really doesn’t seem _that_ bad, as criminals go. He’s really pretty nice actually. And Jay’s clearly been eating the guy’s cooking for a while now and doesn’t seem to have been poisoned.

 _And_ the kitchen now smells so good, Tim would literally rather gnaw off his own arm than walk away without trying some of whatever the man is now dishing happily onto three large plates. Taking his first bite under the rapt gaze of Louie in Jason’s body and Old Dude Jay’s knowing smirk, Tim can’t suppress his moan of sheer rapture.

 _Hot_ damn, _I hope it takes them a while to switch back!_ He blushes, shaking his head as though to clear the thought away. _No wait, scratch that. But I’m_ totally _gonna get all Louie’s recipes for Jason to cook once he’s back to normal._

He looks around the table, takes another heaping bite of _awesome,_ and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, startled to find unfamiliar intruder in his house:** *Shrieks, delivers powerful kick to groin* “Be gone, knave!”  
>  **Old Man Jay, easily anticipating all Tim’s attacks:** “Yo Babe it’s me, yo’ boy Jay, bodyswapped with some old man. Wanna pull down those pants and have some no dentures adventures?” *Leers exaggeratedly, looks like total perv*  
>  **Tim, recoiling in horror and revulsion:** “Oh my god Jason WHY, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS” *Welds chastity belt on self, pulls on three additional pairs of pants for added protection*  
>  **Louie, shuffling out in Jason’s body:** “Mi scusi, I made too much of this delicious, delicious pasta, want I should share?” *Holds out plates loaded with Best Pasta Ever*  
>  **Tim and Old Man Jay, sitting at table happily:** “Oh hells yeah! Thanks, Random Mafioso!” *Dig in ecstatically* “Hey you ever think about starting a cooking school? Cause we can get you into Witness Protection…”  
>  **Louie, interested:** “Yeah?” *Startles as alarm on watch goes off* “Oh we’ll hafta talk about this in the morning, I’m goin’ to bed” *Shuffles away*  
>  **Old Man Jay, staring after him in stunned horror:** “It’s fuckin’ five o’clock in the afternoon, Timmy”  
>  **Tim, patting Old Man Jay’s hand consolingly:** “I know, Jason… I know” *Resumes eating, plots multitudinous ways to get Louie to open culinary school nearby and send constant stream of glorious Italian cooking back to Tim and Jason. Sighs happily*


	7. Alpha/Beta/Omega // Nightmares & Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Hood starts to yank Robin up to deliver the final incapacitating blow, when a faint whiff of scent reaches him that is so unexpected it makes him stumble, grip loosening. His opponent slips unheeded to the ground to curl into himself slightly with a soft, pained groan as Hood lifts his head to scent the air. 
> 
> _What the_ fuck, _why the_ hell _am I smelling a fucking_ omega in distress _way the hell up here?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter bumps the rating to explicit; warning for potential dubious consent inherent in alpha/beta/omega system, although both involved parties in this story are very… ah, _willing_. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“It didn’t surprise anyone when I died,” Red Hood growls as he viciously _slams_ Robin into the concrete, forcing a pained groan out of the younger boy and grinning savagely.

Hood takes grim satisfaction in brutally grinding his boot into the downed vigilante’s back to keep him on the ground, ignoring his choked gasp and the way his head jerks back as he twitches in pain. “When I _failed.”_

He carelessly flips Robin over with a yank of that ill-gotten fuckin’ cape. “I failed… But I’m still beating _you.”_ The _rage_ and the _green_ inside him roars triumphantly at his victory, furious and powerful and demanding the Replacement fucking _bleed_ for what he did to Jason, for what he _took._

Red Hood starts to yank Robin up to deliver the final incapacitating blow, when a faint whiff of scent reaches him that is so unexpected it makes him stumble, grip loosening. His opponent slips unheeded to the ground to curl into himself slightly with a soft, pained groan as Hood lifts his head to scent the air.

 _What the_ fuck, _why the_ hell _am I smelling a fucking_ omega in distress _way the hell up here?_

Red Hood lowers his head and shakes it like a bull, grinding his teeth against the alpha instincts hounding him to abandon his current battle for the infinitely more important mission of tracking down whatever piece of human excrement is scaring a goddamn omega so bad, and punching _his_ teeth in instead.

“You lucked out this time, Replacement,” he grits out finally, backing away and scenting the air again to search for a direction. Whatever omega’s in trouble, they smell fuckin’ _desperate._ There’s no more time to waste here, even though the thought of walking away without finishing this is really fucking aggravating after all the planning Hood did.

Robin doesn’t respond, and Red Hood wonders absently if the kid’s passed out already. Whatever, his team will recover eventually and find him; he’ll be fine.

Unlike the omega in distress, if Hood doesn’t manage to track them down before whomever’s hurting them does something unforgivable. Another whiff reaches him and his entire body tenses, eyes widening in horror.

 _That’s- oh_ shit. _There’s an omega in distress nearby, about to go into a fuckin’_ critical _heat._

Critical heat, which unlike a normal heat cannot be managed by medication and can only be safely ended by an alpha’s knot.

Critical heat, which can easily _kill_ an omega unlucky enough to be affected by it, whether through the body overworking itself and succumbing to exhaustion and fever due to failure to receive the correct hormones from an alpha, or by attracting feral alphas who use the omega harshly and fight with each other for breeding rights, sometimes fatally wounding the omega in the process.

_Jesus. I gotta find ‘em before someone else does._

But critical heats don’t fuckin’ _happen_ these days, except in domestic violence situations or in a fuckin’ _war zone._ Civilized regulations have basically snuffed out biological throwbacks like that, and the laws in most countries have pretty fuckin’ punitive reprisals against anyone who can be proven to have behaved brutally enough to throw an omega into a critical heat; who the _fuck_ would be dumb and cruel enough to risk _that_ —

A critical heat is a fuckin’ Hail Mary, a long shot with the tiniest chance of a good outcome for the omega, only coming into play because the omega’s already been hurt so bad their body thinks they’re literally about to die otherwise.

Hood’s shoulders hunch as his body automatically shifts into a battle-ready stance, evolutionary biology and instincts overwhelming him for a moment as his inner alpha _roars_ at the thought of a vulnerable omega somewhere nearby, so beaten and damaged that their only option for survival is a last-ditch, critical heat meant to entice their attackers into using them for sex instead of a punching bag.

… _Punching bag…_ Hood suddenly has a really, _really_ bad feeling about this.

Red Hood’s eyes trail unwillingly, incredulously over to the still form of his Replacement, the arrogant little asshole who took everything that was once his.

 _But Tim Drake isn’t an omega, he’s a fuckin’_ beta, _even his files I hacked on the Batcomputer say so…_

Hood’s mind instantly fills with multiple potential scenarios in which Batman might see fit to hide the Replacement’s secondary gender, and a few in which the Pretender might live up to his nickname and hide it himself. Being an omega in a combat position could be a vulnerability, and either of them might have seen fit to conceal the truth, if only to prevent situations _just like this_ from happening _._

To stop bad guys from taking the worst kind of advantage of the kid.

_Fuck._

Hood stares down at the boy, _Tim,_ who looks so fucking _small_ lying there, curled in pain on the tower roof. Somehow he looks even tinier than usual, and younger.

 _Fuck,_ he's just a goddamn _kid,_ and here Hood is beating the shit outta him like some fuckin' alpha _animal._ Sure, the kid's over sixteen, but that's still more than two years younger than Jason. The boy whimpers softly, tensing in pain, and a wave of self-recrimination and shame rolls through Hood, twisting his insides.

Without conscious volition Hood stumbles over to the crumpled form of his successor and falls to his knees at his side, leaning down close enough to carefully scent him and confirm what he already more than suspects. Maybe too close, because at this proximity the jarring, desperate scent of _omega in distress,_ of _pain_ and _need_ and fucked-up want all twisted with _wrong_ is so strong it sends him reeling.

In that instant, every remaining desire to harm the smaller boy is snuffed out, replaced with a much older, deeper instinct to protect and defend, written into his very self.

 _Shit. Now I feel fuckin’_ horrible _for planning to write “Jason Todd was here” in this kid’s blood and leave him here for Bats to find after beating him to a bloody pulp. God, what the fuck is_ wrong _with me._

In that moment, a wave of clarity sweeps over the Red Hood, and it all hits him like he’s being drenched in ice water—every action, every blow over the past months aimed at his own fucking _Pack,_ every time he raised his hand against them—what the _fuck_ was it for? What the hell was he _thinking?_

The reports Talia shoved under his nose detailing the Replacement’s life with the Bats fly through his mind, and somehow her manipulation is so fucking clear now, her attempts to use Jason against Batman as a pawn in her own fucked up game so blatant. Hood's mind feels clearer than it has since he died, and he _staggers_ under the weight of all he's done.

 _Fuck. I'm a goddamn_ monster.

He grits his teeth against that knowledge and the _pain_ of realization as his alpha instincts rise up, filling him with the almost irresistible desire to protect and claim the little, hurt omega before him. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists until the wave passes and he can think clearly again.

 _Fuck, fuck,_ fuck! _He’s gonna bring all the alphas in the neighborhood at this rate with the way his hormones are spikin’. I gotta get him somewhere safe._

They’re still on top of Titans Tower, which would under normal circumstances be one of the safest places in the world, but at the moment all Robin’s allies in the Tower are incapacitated due to Hood’s own infiltration and tactics. His inner alpha growls at the thought of leaving the vulnerable omega here, at a location which has already been compromised once tonight.

 _Not safe, not defensible. Wait, what the fuck am I even thinking? I just beat the shit outta the kid, I’m the last person he’d want helping him now, or_ ever. _Fuck…_

Robin blinks, large blue eyes opening and slowly focusing on Hood. “What…?” He sounds confused and glances around before trying to sit up, freezing and sucking in a startled, pained breath at the movement. He presses an arm over his belly, clutching at what must be painful cramping due to the rapid-onset critical heat. “I’m…” He blinks again, shaking his head in confusion, his scent starting to take on an edge of panic.

Hood forces himself calm, trying to project as much reassuring protective alpha scent as possible so as not to further frighten the already injured and scared omega. “You’re in heat, kiddo. I gotta get you somewhere safe, then I can call Bats or your dad or whoever—”

The boy blinks again, shaking his head more frantically and curling into an even tighter little ball, drawing his knees in to his chest as he hisses through another cramp. _“Heat?_ What are you talking about, betas don’t have heats…” His eyes widen. “Wait, you can’t call my dad, he doesn’t even know I’m _Robin!”_

Red Hood’s stuck on the first thing Robin said. “You didn’t _know._ Jesus. _Jesus._ You and B weren’t _hiding_ it, you actually _didn’t know_ you’re a goddamn omega. Shit, this is your fucking _presentation heat,_ and it’s a fuckin’ _critical heat._ Oh my fuckin’ god, I think I’m gonna puke.” He swallows back his gorge at the way Robin goes dead pale at his words.

“C-critical heat?” The boy’s voice goes alarmingly high and wobbles worryingly. “I—oh _god,_ that means I have to—” He trails off to a whisper, looking and smelling more scared than he has since this whole shitstorm started. “I have to have sex, and get knotted to end it,” he says in a small voice, lower lip trembling and eyes starting to glisten before he squeezes them shut.

Every buried, protective alpha instinct Hood has swells up in him like a tsunami and he curls his upper body carefully around the little omega, patting at him clumsily and trying desperately to reassure him. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll call Nightwing for you. Wing’s the best, he’s been with tons of omegas, he knows what the fuck he’s doing, and he’ll make it really good for you—”

Robin’s eyes fly open in horror. “Ew, he’s like a _brother_ to me _,_ Hood, I don’t want to have _sex_ with him!” The little omega’s all fire and spite now, fear buried beneath his revulsion at the suggestion.

Hood backtracks rapidly. “Uh, okay, okay! Um, how ‘bout one of your little friends—wait, _shit,_ I knocked ‘em all out, didn’t I? They won’t be any good for you for a while. Fuck. Um. Know any other alphas?”

Robin glares at him. “It has to be an alpha who knows about my being Robin, or my suspicious injuries and the fact I’m currently in a critical heat would open up a massive legal can of worms. Besides Dick and the Titans, that just leaves _B.”_ Before Hood can even say anything, Robin bares his teeth at him and actually fuckin’ _hisses_. _“No.”_

“Don’t look at me like that! I wasn’t gonna suggest you get knotted by your fucked up _father-figure,_ kid!” Hood runs his gloved hand through his hair, searching his mind for an appropriate alpha to see the kid through the potentially deadly heat he inadvertently brought on.

Robin snorts, smirking a little despite the pain. “I think if we tried that I’d just die of awkwardness instead of unfulfilled heat. If B didn’t die of the awkward first, that is.”

Hood chuckles. “Jesus, he would, wouldn’t he,” he says as he presses a kiss to the smaller boy’s hair before freezing as he realizes what he just did. “Shit. Shit, sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Why not you?”

Everything in him stops at Robin’s words. He rewinds them in his mind, unable to believe what he just heard. “Wait, _what._ Did you already forget I’m the one who fuckin’ _put you_ in this fuckin’ mess? Kid, if it weren’t for me you’d be fine right now.”

“So maybe it’s your responsibility to fix it.”

“I fuckin’ beat the _shit_ out of you tonight, hurt you enough to drive you into a goddamn _critical heat._ Jesus, kid, I think that fuckin’ qualifies as an honest to god _crime against humanity._ How could you _possibly_ trust me not to hurt you more? Do worse to you when you’re helpless and can’t do anything to stop me?”

Even as he says it, the very thought of ever hurting this boy again makes his stomach twist in a sick knot. _But the kid doesn’t_ know _that; where the fuck is his self-preservation instinct?_

“Hood, whatever else you may be, you’re a good alpha. Even when you’ve been at odds with the rest of the Pack, you still stick to your innate morals, protecting children and omegas. Even if you _hate_ me, I _know_ you would never use sex to hurt me.”

Robin’s words fall on Hood like a cleansing rain, soothing the growling anger within that barely manages to cover the vast void of pain at his own inadequacy.

 _I never thought any of them noticed I had any morals left at all. Thought they all just lumped me in with the rest of the murderers and bad guys they try to lock up. Wait, did he say…_ “You think of me as Pack?” Embarrassingly, his deep voice breaks on the last word.

The omega’s eyes widen slightly and he leans infinitesimally closer to Hood. “Of course I do, Hood. You _are_ Pack. I always thought that, but…” He frowns, clearly concentrating. When he speaks again, his voice holds a hint of wonder. “I _feel_ it now, in a way I didn’t before.” And he tilts his head up to gently rub his cheek along Jason’s neck, scenting him.

Hood’s mouth drops open in surprise, surrounded in the feel and scent of the little omega. And there’s _something…_ He closes his eyes, searching inward and… _there._

_Well fuck me._

“We have a fuckin’ _Pack bond,”_ he whispers, awed. “How the _fuck…”_

Robin shrugs, a shy, pleased little smile on his face. “You’re _Pack,_ ” he repeats. “You always have been. You know, I have a theory the Lazarus Pit disrupts Pack bonds and that’s part of how it drives people crazy; it makes them feel—”

“Alone,” Hood interrupts, whispering hoarsely. _“Abandoned.”_ He feels the tears gathering in his eyes, but doesn’t mind at all when Robin crouches up on his knees to wrap his arms around Hood’s shoulders. He hunches down to try to make himself smaller, then folds his own arms around the smaller boy, his _Pack mate what the actual fuck._

“I thought time might be the only way to counteract the Pit and restore your Pack bonds if my theory was correct.” Robin noses carefully into Hood’s neck and breathes him in deeply, sighing as the alpha scent settles him slightly. “Apparently a sufficiently high dose of the right hormones and a Pack mate in need works too.”

He giggles a little giddily into Hood’s neck and Hood’s arms tighten involuntarily, _protectively,_ around this intelligent, surprisingly _sweet_ boy who has apparently been worrying about and trying to help Hood even as the alpha was plotting against him.

 _Never again,_ he swears, already committed to trying to earn Robin’s forgiveness once this whole mess is over. Another soft groan draws his mind back to the problem of the omega’s critical heat.

“Hood…” Robin breathes into his neck, twitching in his arms as his scent slides from worried to enticing. “Please?” As Hood shakes his head and starts to pull back, Robin’s arms tighten around his neck. “Seriously, I wouldn’t ask you if there was anyone else. Hood, _please._ I trust you with this.”

As Hood considers, searching for any other, _better_ candidate to take care of Robin right now, he realizes there really isn’t anyone available the boy knows and trusts to handle this.

 _Shit. I_ can’t, _I’ve already hurt him way too much, but there isn’t anyone else, and I can’t just fuckin’ let him die of a fucked up heat._

_I’m so sorry, Timmy._

“Okay.”

*

“He was in _heat,”_ Nightwing growls, already half-feral at the very _thought_ of his little Pack mate going into heat during a fight and being carried away, hurt and vulnerable, for some merciless _villain_ to violate and harm. _“Where are they?”_ His voice is deep and savage, more than a hint of alpha rage coming through, his body trembling with growing violence.

Batman continues to study the scene, a forced calm keeping his movements steady and unhurried as he follows the traces of blood and scuff marks, carefully scenting the spot where the fight seems to have ended. “It was Red Hood.”

Nightwing tenses, his entire body snapping to attention in a haze of protective fury. _“What,”_ he snarls, baring his teeth fiercely. _“Where?”_

Batman shakes his head, and Nightwing wants to _roar_.

 _Doesn’t he care? Jason has_ Timmy, _Timmy who’s apparently an_ omega, _and he’s in heat. I know normally Jason would never, but this is_ Tim _and Jason’s not_ rational _when it comes to Tim._

 _Oh god, he’s gonna get_ hurt.

Even as he thinks it, Nightwing isn’t sure which ‘he’ he’s worried about.

Maybe both.

“Can’t you smell it? Red Hood was furious at first, but that is overlaid by a fresher trace of alpha protectiveness and concern. When Robin went into critical heat, Red Hood responded favorably and removed him, most likely to somewhere his inner alpha would consider safe.”

As Batman’s words penetrate and he confirms for himself the story told by the trace scents remaining at the scene, Nightwing calms considerably.

Okay, maybe this is something they can manage _without_ descending into a feral state and ripping each other apart. “Well, where’s that?”

“I have Oracle working on it.”

Nightwing nods slowly, then lets out a long, slow, shuddering breath as he tries to come down from the high of adrenalin and hormones that have him poised ready to _fight_. “Okay. Okay, well, I doubt Red Hood was prepared to handle an omega in heat, let alone a critical heat.”

His lips twitch in a faint smile. He’s still _so_ worried, but no longer panicking on the verge of feral at the thought of the boy he thinks of as his baby brother helpless in the hands of some faceless villain.

It’s _Jason._ And according to the scents, maybe more the Jason they lost than he has been since he came back. Maybe a Jason they can trust to take care of Timmy, at least until they catch up with the pair. He’s still not completely reassured, but the scents don’t lie and Jason’s scent is _damn_ protective and worried. “So Oracle’s tracking them down as we speak, right?”

“Hn.”

“Well, while she does her thing, I think I’m going on a shopping trip.”

*

“Jason, I _have_ to be knotted to end the critical heat; you knew that when you brought me here!” Tim eyes the older alpha, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing in frustration as Jason edges away from the mattress on the floor of the small, covert safe house to which he brought Tim.

Now that they’ve cleaned up and treated each other’s wounds from their truncated fight earlier, the rolling heat in Tim’s core is starting to _roar_ and he wants Jason to just step up and _help,_ damn it.

“I know,” Jason says, running a hand agitatedly through his hair and then mumbling something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Tim leans forward, brows raised inquiringly.

Jason blushes unexpectedly and makes a face as he repeats himself, mumbling slightly louder than before. “I’ve never… been with an omega before. Or anyone, really. I don’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you, Timbo.”

Tim’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen as he flushes.

_Oh. Oh, that actually makes a lot of sense. Jason comes across as such a badass, I just figured he would be experienced, but really… he wasn’t even sixteen when he died, and since then he’s pretty much been busy training and fighting. When would he have had time for dating and stuff?_

“Oh. Well…” Tim blushes harder and stares at Jason’s boots. “I think we can figure it out… if we just, like, go slow?” He bites his lip and drags his eyes up to meet Jason’s gaze, and _wow._ The alpha’s pupils are blown wide, he’s breathing hard and staring at Tim like he wants nothing more than to _take_ him. _“Jason,”_ Tim whispers roughly, and then Jason’s on the bed with him, kissing him and dragging his hand up his back, pressing his lips against Tim’s hair and letting out a shuddering breath.

“Baby Bird, _Baby…”_ Jason presses kisses to Tim’s cheeks, eyes, and mouth and then down to start sucking a love bite into his neck, _marking_ him. Tim moans at the thought, rubbing up against the alpha’s gloriously hard, _hot_ body like he can’t get enough. “You gotta tell me if anything hurts, if I start to do _anything_ you don’t like. I’ll stop, I fuckin’ swear to you that I’ll stop the second you say.”

“I know,” Tim murmurs, softly stroking Jason’s hair and leaning back to allow the big alpha better access to his throat. “I will, I promise.” He lets out a choked little noise as Jason presses him back into the bed, gently tugging his top up and stroking and kissing each section of skin as it is exposed.

They manage to work their way out of their uniforms, probably hindering more than helping as they clumsily try to assist each other while clinging and kissing, unable to release each other long enough to undress separately.

 _I know it’s the heat, but_ god, _this is_ amazing. _Everywhere he touches feels_ so good.

Jason’s arousal drags against Tim’s hip, and his breath catches. Jason feels _huge._ Looking down with some trepidation, Tim wonders how exactly this is supposed to work.

 _That size_ can’t _be normal; maybe the Lazarus Pit also increases penis size?_

At the sound of Jason choking, Tim looks up and sees the other boy blushing furiously, drawing back his hips to curl himself away from Tim. “Uh, no? Least I don’t think the Lazarus Pit had anything to do with _that._ Pretty sure I’m on the bigger end, but it’s natural, within the normal range for an alpha,” Jason mutters, looking away abashedly.

_Oh shit I’m narrating my thoughts out loud again. Damn it, this is only supposed to happen when I’m sleep-deprived, on the good painkillers, or on fear gas! Not fair._

Jason turns back with an amused smile curling the corners of his lips. “You’re a weird little thing, you know that?” Tim dips his chin, lips tightening in a frown at the criticism, and Jason’s brows rise quickly. “No, no, not like _that,_ I mean in a good way. You’re nothin’ like I thought you’d be.”

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of Tim’s mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be someone I could _like.”_ And that teal gaze is so open, so caring, the raw honesty of the statement makes something inside Tim tremble.

Tim’s mouth falls open, and Jason takes advantage to capture his mouth and press him back into the bed, rubbing their bodies against each other in a way that feels _amazing._

_Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—_

“I won’t,” Jason whispers, nibbling on Tim’s jawline. “I got you, Baby Bird.” He grins at Tim’s choked gasp as he slides down farther and _takes him in his mouth holy shit._

 _God I never imagined it would be like_ this. _Never even dared to imagine having_ Jason.

The _heat_ and _need_ and scent of protective, _hungry_ alpha all conspire to drive Tim over the edge so fast he has a feeling he’ll probably be embarrassed about it later, once he has room in his mind for anything that isn’t sheer _want._

Tim’s floating bonelessly on a cloud of pleasure as Jason carefully tugs and repositions him, and only returns enough to take note of his surroundings when _Jason’s warm, wet tongue_ is _right there oh_ god.

“Jason, _Jason,_ what are you—” Tim pants, whining, and curls his fingers into the soft blankets beneath him, face pressed into the pillows as he _whimpers,_ glad his face is hidden because he’s curled on his knees with his _ass in the air,_ completely exposed to the alpha who is knelt behind him, big warm hands spread on his hips to hold him steady as he fucking _takes him apart_ with his clever tongue.

Tim twitches, trembles, and _takes it,_ moaning and pressing back even as he blushes at what they’re doing.

“I thought you said you didn’t know what to do,” he gasps at some point, once he regains the ability to speak after Jason wrings _another_ orgasm out of his writhing body.

Jason, stretched out at his side and gently playing with his hair while he recovers, grins playfully. “Said I hadn’t done it before; never said I didn’t _know_ what to do with an omega.” His smile softens. “The workin’ omegas in the place I grew up, I used to hear them talk to each other ‘bout the Johns, how some were bastards, and some weren’t. What they did. Gave me a pretty damn good idea how to treat an omega _right.”_

Tim’s breath catches, mind hung up on the thought of a young Jason, _too_ young, hearing about things a little boy shouldn’t have to learn. “I’m sorry,” he whispers without thinking, then tenses for fear Jason might take that the wrong way. But the warm presence that has been imbuing the back of his mind with a general sense of _nervous-hopeful-happy_ this whole time gives a quick burst of _surprise-grateful-affection,_ and he’s relaxing before Jason even speaks, tentatively opening the bond even further in hopes that will improve what is yet to come.

 _Damn, I really wish his Pack bonds had come back earlier. There’s no way all the misunderstandings and fighting would have happened if he and Bruce could just open the bond and_ feel _each other’s emotions. I hope the rest of his bonds can come back too now that the Pit’s influence has been pushed back._

“Don’t worry about it, kid, that’s so far from the worst part of my childhood it’s nothing. Glad for it, now, ‘cause it taught me how to take care of you.” Jason leans down and tenderly kisses Tim again. “Your heat seems stable right now, but we probably shouldn’t put off the rest of it any longer. Gotta give you the hormones and final triggers for you to come down from the critical heat, nice and easy. Don’t wanna wait too long and make it harder on you if your hormones start to overwhelm your systems.”

Tim swallows, flutters of nervous excitement that he’s sure Jason is picking up through the Pack bond stirring in his core. “You have to knot me,” he says unsteadily, body already rising and slicking at the thought.

Jason’s eyes go black with arousal and he groans as his excitement and Tim’s reflect and rebound through the bond, growing exponentially in a rising wave of mutual desire. “Yeah,” he growls, voice deep and rough. “You still good with that, Baby Bird?”

Tim manages a narrow-eyed glare at the idiot alpha lying beside him. “Really,” he deadpans. “The Pack bond between us is _completely open_ to the point we are _feeling each other’s emotions,_ and you think you have to ask me that.” At Jason’s answering shrug, he sighs, unable to suppress a smile. “Yes, Jason, I still want you to knot me.” He doesn’t quite manage to suppress the blush, but at least rolling over and getting on his knees again helps hide his red face.

And _then._

It’s different from what he expected, what he’s been fearing in the back of his mind since the moment he blinked his eyes open feeling _weird_ and _wrong_ and saw Red Hood peering down at him with something like worry and concern in his eyes instead of the blank _rage_ that was the only way Hood ever looked at him before.

It isn’t painful, or foreign, doesn’t make him feel small or weak the way he was secretly worried it might. Jason’s slick and hot, rubbing gently and slowly against him where he’s already wet and open from the big alpha’s earlier ministrations.

It feels _wonderful,_ and when Jason begins pushing in, rocking into his body with slow, careful motions, it feels _good_ and right in a way he never even imagined.

It probably helps that his own pleasure and wonder is compounded by the ecstasy and awe pouring into him through the bond from Jason’s end.

“J- _Jason—”_ Tim gasps, his mouth falling open, overwhelmed at the sensation of Jason _in_ him completely, sliding in and out and filling him over and over again. He moans, falling into a rhythm with the alpha as their bodies move together to bring them both to that exquisite edge.

“Baby, Timmy, oh _fuck_ you’re perfect, you’re so good, doin’ so good for me sweetheart, god you’re so tight. Love this, love havin’ you like this, so good for me, darlin’, _fuck,_ I’m already so fuckin’ _close._ Are you…” Jason shudders, holding still and tensing. “Sorry, I almost—” He buries his face in Tim’s back, mouthing softly at his skin. “You feel too damn good, Baby, lemme just…”

And his hand slips around to Tim’s front to curl around him, beginning a slow sliding rhythm to match the way he resumes thrusting in and out of Tim’s body.

And _that._

“Hnngh,” is all Tim manages before he’s falling to pieces for the _third time_ tonight, clenching and tightening around his alpha who groans long and low in response while he spills into Tim’s body, swelling and locking into place as Tim trembles and stills, mind floating again. The pleasure ripples through him and echoes back and forth over the bond in a seemingly endless feedback loop of sheer rapture that goes on and on and _on_ until they melt together into a comfortable, _extremely_ satiated, exhausted repose.

*

Nightwing crawls carefully through the window of the safe house, arms full, automatically taking in the scattered gear and the sparse furnishings before focusing on the mattress. _Whoops._

The, uh, very _occupied_ mattress, which, coupled with the overpowering scent of mating and satisfied alpha and omega causes Nightwing to flush bright red and desperately hope this isn’t going to be as awkward as he expects. Thank god there’s a sheet over them.

 _Oh god they had_ sex, _my little brothers had_ sex—

At least that awful critical heat scent is gone now. Whatever else may have happened here tonight, Tim and Jason are both relatively healthy and safe, and that’s better than a lot of outcomes Dick can imagine, _did_ imagine on the way over here when his fears got the best of him.

Carefully, he sets down his burdens and approaches the bed to evaluate their condition more closely. Jason jerks awake almost instantaneously and growls, snapping at him in a way that freezes him in place in surprise. “Jay…?” He starts, then realizes to his embarrassment the two are probably actually _still knotted together, oh god._

_Of course Jason’s defensive; an alpha and omega are vulnerable while knotted and his instincts are screaming at him to protect Timmy._

“It’s okay,” he soothes, extending his hand slowly with a couple of the water bottles he brought. “I’m not going to hurt either of you.” He peels off his mask so it will be easier for Jason to recognize him; hopefully, his little brother’s rage and resentment is more tied to Nightwing than to Dick Grayson.

Jason eyes him warily, but Tim, who awakened at the sound of his voice, smiles up at him with a faint blush and takes the water bottles from his hand. “Thanks, Dick.” He hands one to Jason, then cracks the other open and takes a long swallow, half-emptying it and sighing happily.

Dick takes the moment to study his little Pack mate, searching for any signs of distress or abuse and experiencing tremendous relief at finding none besides the carefully treated and bandaged evidence of the earlier fight that started this whole mess. He hadn’t thought Jay would harm an omega in distress, _but…_

It’s good to see Jason lived up to his expectations, instead of down to his fears.

Now all Dick wants is to stay here and feed and water his Pack mates, care for them both as they recover from their ordeal. But the scent of uncomfortable, guilty and angry alpha is rising, and maybe his staying _isn’t_ such a good idea… not if Jason is going to be so unhappy in his presence.

“Scent him,” Tim says, and both Dick and Jason stare at him like he’s crazy. “Just do it!” The little omega rolls his eyes, and Dick eyes him askance as he leans forward slowly, half convinced he’s about to be bitten for his troubles.

“Jay?” Dick looks to his younger, volatile former Pack mate for permission. Jason scoffs but gestures for him to go ahead. Carefully, with slow movements so as not to alarm the other alpha, Dick leans in and gently rubs his cheek up and down Jason’s neck, thoroughly scenting them both.

And _oh._

_Oh, wow._

The warmth that blooms unexpectedly in the back of his mind is so _familiar,_ and _missed,_ it brings tears to his eyes. It’s been so _long_ since his Pack bond with Jason was ripped out with the pup’s death, his _murder_ at the hands of the Joker, that Dick had forgotten what it _felt_ like before, when it wasn’t just an empty, gaping wound bleeding his grief into the void.

But now it’s _back._ Jason’s back, he’s _there_ in Dick’s mind, a ball of _pugnacious-hesitant-loving-resentful_ that catches Dick’s breath on a sob as he crumples, collapsing onto his still-knotted Pack mates in a way that would probably be super-awkward if any of them were thinking totally clearly. But that doesn’t matter, because _Jason’s back._

“Little Wing,” Dick breathes, rubbing his face on Jason’s hair as the younger alpha growls, then pats him hesitantly on the back.

“Hey there, Dickiebird. Missed you,” he says gruffly.

Dick sniffles and captures both younger boys in a hug, ignoring Tim’s embarrassed squirming and Jason’s annoyed huff. “Oh, Jay, we _missed_ you so _much!”_

“Yeah, yeah. You had your moment, now get the fuck off of us, I’m still _in_ him you know,” Jason grumbles, smirking when Dick scrambles off and backs away from the mattress whining in distress.

_Oh god gross, why why why—_

_“Ja-son,”_ Tim says, clearly embarrassed, hiding his hot face in the pillow to avoid having to meet anyone’s eyes.

Jason’s face softens and he carefully kisses the little omega in his arms. “Sorry, Baby.” His voice is incredibly gentle, nothing like the Red Hood who’s been terrorizing Gotham since he came back.

Watching them together, Dick’s lingering concerns ease. No matter how Jason felt about Tim at the beginning of all this, the care and concern he feels for him now are written in his every look and gesture.

Dick doesn’t need to worry about them, and he heaves a huge sigh of relief at that realization.

“Okay, I’m going to go to the kitchen and get the takeout set out. You two feel free to come in once you, uh, you know.” He blushes at the reminder of what the other two have been doing in that bed.

“You mean once the knot does down and I pop outta Timmy—” Jason’s loud voice tapers off as Tim slaps a hand over his mouth, and Dick shakes his head fondly as he scoops up his bags and makes his way out of the room. At the doorway to the kitchen, he pauses and glances back, watching the window expectantly. If his mental clock is right, then it should be just about _now—_

Batman climbs through the window and steps into the room, staring down at the two vigilantes curled around each other on the mattress on the floor, a thin sheet the only thing shielding their modesty.

Tim and Jason both cringe slightly in embarrassment and dismay, and Jason curls over Tim protectively while glaring up at the Bat, sneering. “Well? The fuck you want, B?” Of course Jason always goes on the attack when he’s feeling vulnerable.

Batman stares down at them for a moment longer, then steps forward and slowly extends his right gauntlet. On his palm is a small white pill. “Contraception.” He tilts his head. “If you intend to continue to engage in a sexual relationship after this, you will need to select a reliable method of long-term contraception, preferably—”

Both boys are staring up at him in horror now, and Tim finally blurts out, _“B!_ Jason and I are _knotted together_ right now! Can’t you save the sex ed lecture for _later?”_

Jason snorts, cuddling Tim closer. “Fuck yeah, old man, go in the kitchen with Dickie. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you bats sure know how to ruin the goddamn afterglow. Assholes.”

Batman frowns, continuing to loom over them. “Tim needs to consume the contraception within twenty-four hours to avoid potential complications which may result from your tryst—”

“Oh my fuckin’ god you’re the most awkward guy I ever met. If you don’t get outta this room _right fuckin’ now_ I’m outta the Pack again, you hear me?”

Batman freezes, then slowly pushes off the cowl. Bruce stares at Jason, eyes bright. “You’re in the Pack again,” he says, and the muted hope beneath the implied question is obvious to all of them.

“Jesus,” Jason sighs, then gestures to his neck with a longsuffering look that doesn’t quite cover his nervousness. “Go ahead.”

“What.” Bruce stares at him like this is a trap, which, knowing the way their interactions with Jason have gone since he came back from the dead, really isn’t that surprising.

“It’s okay,” Dick says encouragingly. “He means it.”

Slowly, not taking his eyes off Jason’s, Bruce leans in and quickly scents the younger alpha. A moment later he stumbles back, eyes wide. “Your Pack _bond,”_ he whispers chokingly. _“Jason.”_

“It was the Pit,” Tim says softly, carefully, as they watch Bruce unravel before them. “It disrupted his Pack bonds, drove him crazy with loneliness and a false sense of rejection. My theory, remember?”

“It was untested,” Bruce protests, blinking rapidly and shoving a fist up against his mouth as he continues to stare at Jason in wondering disbelief. “A pretty fantasy to explain Jason’s reactions after his resurrection, but with nothing to verify it. No definite proof or treatment even had we been sure it was true.”

Jason’s lips lift in a crooked smile. “Well, here’s your proof _and_ the treatment, all in one clusterfuck of a night.” He shifts and Tim makes a soft, distressed noise as a faint squelching sound reminds absolutely all of them exactly what is going on beneath those blankets.

 _Oh dear god this is not happening. I did_ not _just_ hear _my brother’s knot slip out of my other brother. Nope!_

“Welp I’m gonna go dish up all that takeout now!” Dick says loudly, spinning on his heel and practically diving through the door into the relative safety of the kitchen.

Bruce appears at his side a moment later, his face a rictus of horrified embarrassment. “Jason did that on purpose,” he says resentfully, narrowing his eyes.

Dick tilts his head consideringly. “Yeah, probably.” Really, if _anyone_ can control how fast a knot goes down, Jason would definitely learn to do it, just so he could abuse the power to torment Bruce.

Even as part of the Pack again, Jason’s still Jason, and he’s _always_ been a handful.

Bruce sits abruptly at the table, lifting a shaking hand to his forehead. “They’re okay,” he murmurs, sounding slightly disbelieving, and Dick realizes their Pack Alpha has been running on the edge of _feral_ for a while now. Probably since the moment they got word earlier tonight that the Tower had been attacked and Tim was at risk.

“Hey, it’s okay now,” Dick whispers, nudging a carton of something delicious-smelling toward the older man. “And… I think we have a chance for the Pack to be _whole_ again now. We’ve got a reason to celebrate.”

Bruce lifts his head, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “We do, don’t we.” He watches as a blustering, protective Jason shepherds a blushing, smiling Tim into the room and fusses over him while they serve themselves dinner and Tim starts explaining the rationale behind his theory about the Lazarus Pit, Pack bonds, hormonal triggers, and Jason in more detail.

Bruce’s smile grows. “A reason to celebrate indeed.”

*

Jason’s eyes fly open and he looks around in confusion, unable to reconcile his current surroundings with the last thing he remembers. He’s in the _Cave,_ not his shitty safe house, and he’s surrounded by the whole fuckin’ Pack, all of them smelling worried-but-relieved as he blinks up at them.

“Jay?” Red Robin’s leaning close, cowl off so Jason can see Tim’s gorgeous, worried face. “You back with us now?”

“Tt. Todd is too sturdy to succumb to a bastardized fear toxin; he is descended from hearty peasant stock after all.” Robin’s rolling his eyes in dismissal, but he smells worried too, the lying little shit.

“Brat,” Jason says fondly. “Wait, what. _What?”_

_The fuck is going on here? This isn’t…_

“Uh, Jason?” Nightwing drifts closer and hovers worriedly, peeling off his mask to peer down at Jason. “You were… well, you were hallucinating for a while there. Do you remember what happened?”

Flashes of memory unfold in Jason’s mind and he groans, closing his eyes. “Tell me I didn’t get stabbed in the fuckin’ _ass_ by some goon with a syringe full of fear toxin.”

At the ensuing awkward, guiltily amused silence, he huffs a laugh. “Well, fuck.” As he remembers the vivid dream, or rather, _memory_ he just re-lived, he blanches and his eyes fly open. “Wait, I was _hallucinating?_ How do you know? What the fuck was I _doing?”_

Everyone blushes and stares pretty much everywhere but directly at Jason, who looks at Tim for help.

Tim bites his lip. “Um, what’s the last thing you remember? Not patrol, but whatever you were dreaming about.”

“Heh.” Jason blushes, and Dick raises a brow, smirking. “Was dreamin’ about the night me and you first got together, Baby Bird.”

Dick snickers, Tim blushes, and Damian scoffs, turning away in disgust. “I suppose now your initial flailing, uncoordinated attacks, random mutterings, and inexplicable but persistent arousal over the course of the remainder of your hallucination make sense.”

Jason’s brows fly up. “Wait, _what.”_

Dick shrugs awkwardly. “Well, that’s what happened? I mean, you just started punching at no one, and saying things I guess make sense _now_ in retrospect about Robin and fighting and failing and stuff… we just thought it was regular fear toxin at the time, until you started saying, well, _other things,_ and getting, uh, physically _excited_ if you know what I mean. You were kinda humping the med bed too, and hugging the pillow and calling it by Tim’s name.” He tries to keep a straight face but dissolves into snorts of extremely undignified laughter after less than a minute.

As Jason attempts to physically phase through matter with the power of his mind so he can sink into the Cave floor and disappear forever to escape the shame of this moment, Tim takes his hand. The little omega glares at the others, who unwillingly disperse as he climbs onto the medical cot with Jason and curls into him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Tim whispers, nuzzling at Jason’s throat and smelling worried and loving and like everything Jason’s ever wanted, right here in his arms. Reassurance and love whisper across the Pack bond from all the others, and Jason gathers his boyfriend close, sighing and grinning.

So what if his whole Pack saw him running around with a hallucination-induced boner. Whatever. He’s got his Pack, and annoying assholes though they are, they’re _his_.

He’s got his bondmate here in his arms, right where he belongs.

And judging by the awkward, tense line of Batman’s back where the man’s off brooding on the other side of the Cave, he managed to embarrass the _fuck_ outta Batman with his drugged, horny, hallucinatory shenanigans tonight.

Jason grins.

Life is better than good; it’s fuckin’ _awesome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, snarling aggressively and looming over Tim’s crumpled form:** “IMA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP YOU LITTLE—” *Catches scent of hurt omega, melts into gigantic clingy protective teddy bear* “Oh Jesus fuck you’re an omega oh god, we need BLANKETS, and SNACKS, and VIBRATORS—”  
>  **Tim, SO confused:** “What…? Wait I’m a goddamn OMEGA?! Well fuck me. Um. Literally. Cause otherwise my screwed up biology is gonna murder me to death!” *Sprawls comfortably on floor mattress that suddenly appears out of nowhere* “Jaaaaay, I’m waiting”  
>  **Jason, uncharacteristically shy and awkward:** “Uh so I haven’t actually DONE this before…” *Awkwardly pats at Tim’s head* “…Is this doin’ anything for you yet?”  
>  **Tim, horny but understandably concerned:** “Damn it! You know NOTHING, Jason Todd!” *Crosses arms, pouting adorably*  
>  **Jason, thinking long and hard about that:** *Scratches head, then beams happily* “I DO know something, Timbo! I KNOW WHERE TO PUT IT!” *Thoroughly demonstrates said knowledge to their mutual, repeated and enthusiastic pleasure*  
>  **Tim, exhausted and satiated:** “Hnnngh” *Melts into blissful puddle, fails to even notice Dick and Bruce wandering in and then fleeing in mortification from Jason’s devastatingly lewd humor*  
>  **Bruce, torn between delight at having Jason back and abject horror at witnessing sons’ heat-consummation:** “…” *Stares into space with haunted eyes*  
>  **Dick, mildly traumatized and not feeling the aster:** “I know how you feel, B. Right there with you” *Whips bowl of cereal out of nowhere, shares comfort food with Bruce*  
>  **Jason, watching with delight:** “Holy SHIT I get my Pack back, plus the ability to traumatize them FOREVER, plus surprise boyfriend! Wait shit I forgot to ask, you wanna be boyfriends Timmy?” *Makes heart-eyes at Tim hopefully*  
>  **Tim, stirring faintly but still exhausted due to fantastic sex:** “Why are you talking, lie down and cuddle me that’s your first duty as my boyfriend” *Nestles into Jason’s arms and passes out while Jason stares down at him lovingly, not even looking up to flip off other Pack members who peek into room from doorway*


	8. Urban Fantasy // Blood Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A searing pain unlike anything he’s ever felt pierces his chest, lighting his every nerve afire and freezing his breath in his lungs. _Oh, GOD it HURTS—_
> 
> Tim’s eyes fill with tears which overflow and spill down his cheeks, stinging as they encounter the scratch Ra’s made earlier. Slowly, his gaze drops and then fixes on the elegant, bejeweled hilt of Ra’s al Ghul’s ceremonial dagger. Protruding from Tim’s chest, right over his heart.  
>    
>  _Oh no._

“Are you _certain_ you cannot feel the ties to your Coven?” Talia’s voice is deceptively melodious and soothing as she stares levelly at Jason, her beautiful face inscrutable as always, gorgeous ebony horns twisting elegantly out from her flowing dark hair. “Perhaps you can at least _sense_ them, although they are otherwise beyond your reach for the time being?”

Jason catches an unaccustomed edge of tension in her voice and the graceful lines of her slender shoulders.

There’s something bothering her, but _what_ it is and how the hell it might relate to him and his fucked up situation, Jason has no fuckin’ clue.

Jason scowls darkly, hating the reminder of his broken links to Bruce and the others in the Coven, which always bring to mind the brutal beating followed by his actual fuckin’ _death_ that broke the damn things in the first place. “I can’t fuckin’ feel _shit,_ okay?” He snaps, turning his back on her and crossing his arms defensively over his chest, hoping he’s a better liar now than he was before he went and got murdered by a goddamn low-level sorceror consumed by the malevolent, higher-order demon he tried to summon.

The sound of that possessed madman’s crazed laughter still echoes in his nightmares, and probably always will.

Jason feels Talia’s gaze burning into the back of his head and he glares at the floor, wishing like hell she’ll just let this go. When the quiet, irritated swish of her tail and the click of the door closing behind her tells him she’s finally gone, he releases a long, shuddering sigh of relief.

_Thank fuck, she bought it. I don’t know what the hell I woulda done if she’d realized I was lying._

His head snaps up, scanning the room for anything he can use in his escape. There isn’t much, but he’s getting outta this goddamn room one way or another.

Jason may not have all the answers he needs yet about his death, the mysterious resurrection that followed, or the still-nebulous but probably really fuckin’ shitty reasons Ra’s and Talia had for taking him in and keeping him here in the aftermath, but he’s got everything he needs to know he _has_ to _act_.

Because Jason _does_ have his motherfuckin’ links still, _fuck you very much Talia you suspicious bitch,_ even though Talia’s also right in that he can only f _eel_ the damn things, not do anything fuckin’ _useful_ like reach out and _pull_ to call B or Alfie or the others and let them know he’s here. It’s frustrating as hell, as though the Coven is right _there_ just beyond his reach, behind a glass wall in his mind he can’t figure out how to shatter.

 _Whatever. At least it’s enough for me to know Dickie’s_ here, _and he’s scared as fuck. It’s enough for me to_ save him.

Jason may be pissed as hell at all the painful, soul-destroying bullshit Talia’s been feeding him over the past few weeks, about Bruce fuckin’ _replacing him_ before he was even cold in the ground, seemingly shitting all over Jason’s sacrifice and legacy, Dick and the rest of the Coven all going along with it because apparently they never gave a goddamn _shit_ about Jason in the first place, stupid little fuckin’ _worthless_ street rat that he always was, no matter how much they lied and said he _mattered_ , that he was part of the fuckin’ _family,_ that he was _loved…_

_I shoulda known the fuckin’ Wayne Coven wouldn’t seriously pick up some orphan brat off the Gotham streets and bring him into the family. Not for real. I was never anything more than cannon fodder to them, and now I know the truth._

It _hurts._

But…

No matter what else is between them, what betrayals fill the gap between _then_ and _now…_

 _Dickiebird is family. He’s my goddamn_ brother, _no matter if he never really thought of me that way, and there is no world in which I let Ra’s Mother_ fucker _al Ghul torture and twist my big brother into one of the fuckin’ undead generals in his goddamn mindless corpse army. Ain’t gonna let that damn psycho lich get his cold dead talons into Dickie, even if everything that smiling asshole ever said to me was nothing but a lie._

A memory flashes in his mind’s eyes, of a laughing face and bright blue eyes, dancing in the light of the glowing ball of magic hovering between them as his big brother beamed with pride the first time Jason successfully managed to reach his inner power and perform a simple energy manipulation.

He’d felt so cared for, _important._ It all felt so fuckin’ real…

Jason scowls, shoving _those_ memories down in a deep dark pit, knowing he won’t be able to get anything done if he keeps crying about the past like some fuckin’ _kid_.

 _The Coven may have left me behind, but like_ fuck _am I gonna let Dickie be hurt, be_ destroyed _like that. Changed into everything he lives to fight, emptied out and forced to do shit he’d rather_ die _than do._

Another stab of terror and agony rips through the link, which is resonating in Jason’s mind so strongly now that Jason’s _positive_ Dick’s gotta be somewhere in the same complex he’s being kept in. The rest of the links still feel faint and distant; the only thing they’re telling Jason is no one’s riding to the rescue yet. Hell, maybe no one’s even realized Dick’s been kidnapped.

Jason’s teeth clench as he muffles a _scream_ at the pain of sharing in his brother’s emotions without being able to send any reassurance or hope of rescue. It’s dredging up _way_ too many dark memories of another boy, trapped and scared and so fucking _alone,_ sobbing and _aching_ with the stupid, _stupid_ fucking hope that someone would come along and just _save_ him.

No one ever came for Jason.

 _Like_ hell _am I gonna let that happen to Dick._

Jason’s coming for him.

_I got this, Dickiebird. Just hang on, okay?_

He expects to have to force his way out of his room through a locked door, so when it opens easily under his hand, alarm bells start ringing in his mind.

 _Whatever Talia’s play is in letting me loose right now, I don’t give a shit. If she’s on my side and was askin’ about the links to try to figure out whether I already knew Dickie was here and hint that he needed savin’, that’s all well and good. She_ has _always had a soft spot for B, even if she’s got a fucked up way of showin’ it sometimes._

_If she’s against me and this is some kinda goddamn trap, well, I’ll make her fuckin’ regret it._

Jason edges out the door of the opulently decorated room that’s been nothing more than a gilded cage for a dead bird.

In a fucked up way, he’s glad Dickie’s here, if only because otherwise Jason probably would’ve been trapped in that room even longer, with no one to listen to but Talia and her honeyed, poisoned words. Even if the Bats have abandoned him, that doesn’t mean he’s about to turn to the fuckin’ _al Ghuls_ for solace and a purpose.

No, Jason’ll break Dickie out, send him home to Daddy, and then get the fuck outta this creepy-ass place, find somewhere new to figure himself out and maybe learn how to fucking _live_ again.

New York for now to get his bearings, then maybe somewhere in Europe. Do a tour of all the places Jane Austen wrote about, then go to Paris and hit up some used bookstores, spend some time reading on a bench overlooking the Seine. Stay there till night falls and the city wakes up, see the Melusine swimming in the river reflecting the sparkling city lights and feel the soft trace of their nature magic across his skin.

_Damn, sounds pretty good. But the first fuckin’ thing I’m gonna do once I get outta this fuckin’ mess is get a goddamn chili dog._

_If_ he gets out. Facing off against Ra’s and his nightmare army is foolhardy on a good day with appropriately devastating weapons in hand _,_ not to mention the support of Bruce who, for all his many faults, is widely acclaimed as the greatest battle mage of the age, backed by his Coven of legendary fighters all trained in the mystic and martial arts, on a battlefield somewhere _other_ than what is probably one of the lich’s _actual goddamn lairs_ where the fucker’s at his strongest and nigh-invulnerable.

Jason has exactly none of those things.

This is not a good day.

He grits his teeth, and then follows the memorized paths from the few times Talia’s taken him somewhere through the maze-like, twisting corridors, avoiding routes he knows are well populated and seeking out—

 _There. Oh,_ fuck _yeah. Things are starting to look a little better now…_

Jason looks around the surprisingly well-appointed armory, and _grins._

*

Tim hangs suspended from the ceiling, flinching and biting back cries of pain as Ra’s and his circle of lich generals chant their terrible, _awful_ spell that will strip Tim of his humanity, his will, and his very _life._

 _I’m not_ finished _with those things, assholes! God damn it, why did I have to go out tonight again? Oh wait, it was for coffee. Delicious, wonderful coffee, because all those grimoires we found on the last mission aren’t gonna translate and interpret themselves. Guess I can’t fault myself for that. But there’s no excuse for letting my guard down… then again, even if I’d sensed them earlier, I doubt I could have held out against that many high-level liches for long without help._

_Okay Tim, hold it together. Don’t blame the coffee for this, the coffee is innocent. It’s not the coffee’s fault I’m about to succumb to a fate worse than death oh god I’m rambling, get it together self! Maybe there’ll still be a chance to turn this around somehow._

It’s hard to lie convincingly to _himself,_ but Tim’s a damn good liar when he has to be.

The magic is starting to gather around him now, beginning as tingles on his skin and then sinking _in,_ pushing and painfully invading his body, tearing through muscles and flesh and then assaulting his very _bones._

It’s _agony._

Tim throws his head back, wrenching it from side to side to distract himself from the torment as he fights the urge to just _scream_ until his throat is raw.

_This is bad._

_This is really, really bad._

The first part of the spell Ra’s laid once he managed to drag a beaten, bloody and unconscious Tim back to his nightmarish lair blinded him to the links with the Coven, which is a whole other kind of misery. He can’t feel any of them at all right now, can’t send them his distress or receive their worry and love and the magical energy they would all undoubtedly give him to enable him to try to break free on his own while Bruce scried for him, Babs scoured the web and camera networks with her technomancy for clues to his disappearance and location, and Dick and Alfred gathered nature energy while the others cast defensive and shielding spells over everyone to prepare for the coming rescue and probable battle.

It’s been _years_ since the last time Tim felt so alone…

Not since…

He rips his mind away from the horrible memories of when he lost his best friend.

 _Now is_ not _the time._

Destroying or disrupting the links was no mean feat; Bruce is an _incredibly_ powerful mage and those links are _charged,_ not to mention woven with protections and defenses layered and stitched together by Alfred’s deft hand in such a way as to annihilate any attack.

No. Any _normal_ attack. But this is no ordinary assault; Ra’s is anything but average. When Tim awakened, hurting and confused, fuzzily aware that something was horribly _wrong,_ Ra’s was already in the middle of the ritual to turn Tim into one his macabre lich generals, blindly obedient but still aware, still _intelligent_ despite being dead puppets in the hand of the ancient, foul sorcerer who exchanged his own life for power many centuries ago.

The spell had already taken hold of Tim, death whispering in his ear and icy fingers of magic stroking his skin menacingly. _That’s_ what interrupted the links to the Coven, because Tim has been claimed by death, and the dead by definition can’t possess life links which are what bind Covens together.

His links aren’t actually _gone_ yet, probably; theoretically, that won’t happen until Ra’s finishes the ritual and plunges that fancy dagger hanging at his hip into Tim’s still-beating heart, taking his oath of loyalty by _force_ , through his spilled blood and stolen soul, which will henceforth be bound to that goddamn _dagger_ instead of his broken, all-too human body. A phylactery to contain Tim’s essence and trap him in a hellish non-life forever.

Binding Tim to _Ra’s_ , for eternity. An eternity of undead existence as a corpse, animated only by the fell powers Ra’s is calling into him right now. An unending death, spent in the service of one who is anathema to everything Tim believes, all that he’d willingly sacrifice _everything_ for.

Worst of all, as one of Ra’s al Ghul’s favored undead servants, all Tim’s numerous skills, his implacable strategic mind, _everything he knows about his loved ones,_ will be exploited to destroy all that he holds dear.

If Tim could kill himself before the ritual is complete, he would.

 _I never wanted this,_ he thinks helplessly in the privacy of his mind. _Never wanted to bring harm to others._

 _Never wanted to_ hurt _my_ family…

A tear slides slowly down his cheek, and Ra’s pauses in his chanting for a moment to reach out a cold, desiccated finger toward him in a twisted parody of a lover’s touch. _“Ah,”_ he whispers, voice a sibilant hiss as he trails his stiff finger across Tim’s cheek, gathering up the tear and leaving a fine line of blood behind as his sharp nail scratches Tim’s smooth skin.

The lich’s blackened, shriveled tongue pokes out gruesomely and runs over his shriveled lips as he stares at Tim, an expression almost like hunger animating his dead visage. “…I remember tears.”

Tim shudders, wanting nothing more than to jerk his head away but knowing his struggles will be futile and probably serve only to amuse Ra’s.

The lich smirks, tilting his head jerkily as his thin, tight lips stretch in a horrible facsimile of a smile. “Soon, you will never weep again, my Timothy.”

His icy, unyielding finger, still resting on Tim’s cheek, digs in slightly, deepening the wound as the lich draws in a wheezing breath and releases it in a rattling, wistful sigh. “Would that I had met you prior to my ascendance. You, my Beloved, are enough to make me miss the… _pleasures,_ of the flesh.”

_Oh god, gross._

Ra’s chuckles, a dry, scratchy, _awful_ sound. “Still, one way or another, I _will_ have you, my Timothy. If _I_ may not enjoy your body, then at least I can ensure that no other shall. And I will bind you to me, together for all of time as you serve my will in other, perhaps less pleasurable but _infinitely_ more productive ways.”

The lich gives Tim a sinister smile and resumes his chanting, still staring at him creepily.

 _Well that’s disturbing. Thanks, Ra’s, for managing to find a way to make this whole messed up situation_ even worse. _I guess now I can go to my undeath happy knowing you’re just going to use me as a fucking puppet, not a_ bed-warmer _holy shit why are you such a monster, what is WRONG with you._

Honestly, for a mage to become a lich by _choice,_ valuing power and eternal life over even their own humanity… Well, there are obviously a _lot_ of things wrong with Ra’s al Ghul. Hence the current situation.

The murmured chanting picks up again as Ra’s steps away slightly, still close enough to reach out and touch Tim if he so chooses.

So, way the hell too close for Tim’s comfort. Awesome.

The magic, which had been pulsing and aching throughout Tim’s body with a fierce pain, is settling down to a dull throb under Tim’s skin.

_Well, that’s not good._

It means the ritual is nearing completion, and Tim’s running out of time.

_Please please please PLEASE, Bruce, Dick, Barbara Stephanie Cass, Alfred Mama Daddy ANYONE, please help me I don’t wanna die I don’t want this, I don’t want it, no no NO-_

A searing pain unlike anything he’s ever felt pierces his chest, lighting his every nerve afire and freezing his breath in his lungs. _Oh, GOD it HURTS—_

Tim’s eyes fill with tears which overflow and spill down his cheeks, stinging as they encounter the scratch Ra’s made earlier. Slowly, his gaze drops and then fixes on the elegant, bejeweled hilt of Ra’s al Ghul’s ceremonial dagger. Protruding from Tim’s chest, right over his heart.

_Oh no._

*

It’s too late. It’s too _fuckin’_ late.

Jason curses fluently and furiously as his stinging eyes dart around, taking in the chilling scene in the seriously spooky gigantic evil basement where Ra’s and his fuckin’ minions have Dickie strung up like a goddamn piñata.

The room’s filled with dark greenish-tinged clouds of magic swirling around Dick in the middle of the circle of liches, so Jason can’t see him very clearly, but what he _does_ see is almost too much to bear.

Jason’s big brother, the man who taught him how to train surf, do aerial flips between rooftops, and cast the _best_ cookie-finding spells ever, who was always there with a smile and a hug when Jason needed it… he’s been beaten, stripped to the waist, and is so fuckin’ pale Jason’s already worrying about blood loss from some unseen wound.

His dark head is bowed so Jason can’t see his face, but that’s probably a good thing because if he could actually _see_ his big brother’s expression right now, Jason would probably lose it.

Because that’s a _fuckin’ knife stickin’ outta Dickie’s chest._

Out of his _heart._

 _I’m too goddamn late, mother_ fuck, _I can’t believe I was too late. I’m so fuckin’_ sorry, _Dickiebird._

_God DAMN it._

Jason blinks back tears, trembling with fury and grief as he continues to stare at the scene in shock. The circle of lich generals is chanting some creepy arcane bullshit and slowly closing in on the wounded bird like a bunch of goddamn vultures ready to tear his bleeding, quivering body to shreds. And fuckin’ _Ra’s_ is right there, smiling like a bastard, wizened, _hateful_ hand still clutching the knife as blood slowly runs down Dickie’s bare chest like tears.

_Fuck this._

_FUCK this shit, and FUCK Ra’s._

Jason’s moving before he even comes up with a plan, diving forward with a roar and throwing everything he has at the assembled monsters, starting with the nifty little spelled shuriken that explode into huge balls of balefire on contact, consuming half the assembled liches who burn before they even realize he’s there, their nightmarish screams and hisses alerting their companions to the danger.

The others put up a decent fight, automatically interposing themselves between the intruder and Ra’s to defend their master. Ra’s doesn’t even look up, too involved in his goddamn nightmare ritual and obviously confident his generals can deal with any intruders.

They sneer at Jason as they viciously attack, narrowed dead eyes staring hatefully out of leathery preserved faces, desiccated lips stretched tight exposing sharpened yellowed teeth.

The liches rapidly cast an array of devastating spells that converge on Jason, who recognizes spells to cause necrotic damage and disintegration, and others to burn or freeze the target, or worst of all, cause the unfortunate victim to die and rise a mindless tool…

Every one of them holds the potential to destroy him where he stands, but Jason’s wearing every fuckin’ charmed protection item and magical amulet he could find in their really impressively well-stocked armory.

Plus, based on the really fuckin’ _weird_ way all those terrible, high level spells are reacting once they hit Jason’s shield, one of the miscellaneous mystery items he grabbed hoping it would be helpful apparently has a handy little mirror spell on it that is some _powerful_ shit. Jason watches in bemused delight as the spells all ricochet back on their casters, whose brittle, desiccated bodies succumb one by one to the damage exacted by their own damn magic.

_Fuckers, that’s what you GET!_

Jason knows what he’s doing right now is monumentally stupid, _knows_ he can’t really destroy a lich without finding the phylacteries their souls are tied to and destroying _those_ in addition to the actual physical body. Knows the liches he’s destroyed are just going to respawn, back wherever the fuck their creepy-ass phylacteries are, and that they’ll be back to fuck his shit at any moment.

Not only that, he know liches are at their strongest in their lair and going up against them _here_ is the epitome of suicidal, Darwin award-worthy battle tactics.

But.

It’s easier to face these monsters again and again rather than look at Dickie, twisting there in pain, and watch him _die._

Just like Jason died. Alone.

Fuckin’ _knowing_ no one came to save him, but unable to push down that dumb, _pathetic,_ illusory hope.

If nothing else, Jason can show Dick he _tried_ to save him _._ Pain twists Jason’s heart at the thought of his big brother, _hurting,_ and nothing Jason can do for him but die at his side.

_At least Dickie won’t hafta die alone._

As the last of the lich generals falls and crumbles into temporary nonexistence at his feet, Jason finally manages to breach the threshold of the circle drawn on the ground in what looks disturbingly like blood. Probably belonging to the wounded man hanging in the center of the circle, and _fuck_ but Jason’s gonna make Ra’s _hurt_ for that.

A really fuckin’ _bizarre_ tingle brushes over his skin, feeling like warmth and cold and an electric charge all at once and making Jason’s hair stand on end. A sound at the door behind Jason has him shooting a quick glance back over his shoulder, and _fuck_ but one of the fuckin’ lich generals is _already_ respawned and coming in to attack Jason from behind, because _of course_ it is.

Jason doesn’t have a chance to react, though, because at that moment Ra’s lets out a horrible scream like he’s being _ripped apart_ and his head whips around to face Jason, an expression of shock and horror twisting his nightmarish visage before the glowing, eerily green magic gathered around Dickie redoubles back on itself and then leaves him entirely to engulf Ra’s.

The lich shrieks again, clawing at his face as the magic spreads over his body like fire. Dozens, then _hundreds_ of tiny rays of light burst forth out of his body, reaching out and disappearing into the walls in all directions. Jason is startled to notice one appears to connect Ra’s to the nearby lich general, where it disappears into the monster’s chest.

“ _Fool…”_ Ra’s rasps in shocked horror, twisting his neck with difficulty to stare at Jason with hatred in his eyes. “By… stepping… into the circle… _you have doomed us all.”_ He groans, face contorting in agony and rage. “How… _dare…_ you. All I worked for… all my long life… come to _nothing…_ for _this?”_ His dead face is a rictus of malice. “For _you?”_

The dead eyes flash scornfully at Jason. “And… look at you… fool, you don’t even know what you’ve done… _Life_ … stepping into _death_ … rebounds the magic.” His eyes slowly close. “All those tied… by my magic… will _fall.”_

Jason isn’t sure what the _fuck_ is going on here, but by the sound of that… His eyes jerk back to where Dickie’s still hanging, _dying,_ frozen suspended in that painful moment between life and death by Ra’s and his gods-be-damned spell. Everyone who’s tied to Ra’s…

Ah, _fuck._

There’s a beam of light from Ra’s disappearing into Dickie’s chest too.

“How the _fuck_ do I _save_ him, you fuckin’ evil animate jerky!” Jason dives over to Dick, making sure to avoid touching the twitching, writhing clusterfuck that is Ra’s al Ghul, seemingly being slowly consumed by his own dark magic. He tries to ignore the horrible, grating noise coming out of the old shitstain, until he realizes…

Ra’s is laughing. “You _can’t,”_ he rasps. “He’s _mine_ now, or close enough… when the spell follows my ties and… _destroys_ all the liches tied to me… and their phylacteries… he will be destroyed with the rest.” His lips twitch and pull back in what Jason’s horrified to recognize as an attempted _leer._

_What the fuck._

“At least… one way or another, I will _have_ him… at last…” The lich breathes, creeping Jason right the _fuck_ out because when the _hell_ did Ra’s al _fucking_ Ghul develop a creepy, super-disturbing crush on Dickie?

Mindlessly, Jason slowly reaches for the man hanging in chains before him, gently cupping his chin and carefully tilting his head up so Jason can finally see his face.

He’s already a little tense, some part of him having dimly registered something is _very_ wrong with this picture during his approach as he got his first view of the man in chains without all the distracting clouds of magic and misfiring spells in the way.

 _Well fuck me,_ he thinks as he takes in the pale, delicate face, tensed in pain even though the guy is mercifully unconscious. _That is_ not _fuckin’ Dickiebird._

_…Huh._

_Well I guess this makes more sense than Dickie inexplicably droppin’ four inches and fifty pounds of muscle since I died. Also explains why he’s pale as fuck instead of tan like usual; thought that was the fuckin’ blood loss._

_Whatever, even if this fucker ain’t Dickhead I’m still not gonna let him die like this._

Jason takes less than a second to process his emotional response to _that_ little revelation, then shrugs and sets it aside. He’ll deal with his tremendous relief that Dickie’s actually alive later, along with the confusion and banked _fury_ he has against this boy, who can only be his goddamn _replacement._

But for right now…

“I really fuckin’ hope this works,” Jason whispers, grabbing hold of the dagger’s hilt and _yanking_ it out of the boy’s chest. Bright blue eyes _fly_ open as the slim figure in front of him jerks and cries out in startled pain, a heartbreakingly soft, hopeless sound as though he knows he’s fuckin’ doomed. He doesn’t expire instantly, confirming Jason’s suspicion that he’s being held between life and death by magic.

 _Shit, kid, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. But this is the only thing I can think to fuckin’ try, to save your soul. And just_ maybe… _save_ you.

Jason doesn’t know exactly how the fuck he came back from the dead, and he’s starting to wonder what the fuck he _is_. He’d _really_ like to know how the hell him just _being here_ is interfering with Ra’s al Ghul’s spell to the point it’s apparently gonna backfire and destroy the lich’s evil empire once and for all.

But, what he _does_ know…

“My blood can heal,” he blurts out, watching the boy’s eyes drift in and out of focus and hoping like hell he’s lucid enough to understand. “Just let me…”

It’s not like the kid could do anything to _stop_ him, all chained up and hurt like he is. But it still makes Jason feel better to see the tiny little nod as that startlingly _pretty,_ tear- and blood-stained face regards him with confusion.

“Jason,” the boy breathes, staring at him with an expression of mixed sadness and relief. “Am I dead?”

_Not on my watch, kiddo._

Jason doesn’t wait for anything more than that; he uses the dagger to slash his own palm open, then shoves his hand forward to press it palm-first over the grievous wound in the boy’s bare chest, praying this will be enough. He drops the damn dagger to clatter impotently on the floor, noting without taking his eyes off the trembling, gasping boy in front of him that the threatening ray of light stayed attached to the dagger, not the kid.

 _Hells yeah! Fuckin’ take_ that, _ya creepy old lech!_

The sound of the dagger hitting the ground is still ringing in his ears when Ra’s screams again, a rising, horrible sound that goes on and on and _on_ until a burst of heat and light and _power_ rolls through the chamber like thunder, exploding out of the room down all those spell strings like fell lightning seeking out those magically tied to the lich.

Jason instinctively presses close to the boy, still pressing his hand down on the injury like he can hold him together that way, and turns over his shoulder to look.

As he watches, the lich in the doorway opens its mouth in a silent scream and dissolves into a fine ash that falls anticlimactically into a little pile of clothes and ash on the floor, the ray of light binding it to Ra’s winking out as soon as it’s gone. One by one, the other rays of light rapidly disappear as well, as the dire power released by this insane clusterfuck destroys whatever was at their end.

Finally, Ra’s is all that’s left, and then he’s just… _gone_ , too.

It’s over.

Jason lets out a shaky, disbelieving breath, then feels movement beneath his palm and twitches, almost startled at the reminder he isn’t alone. “Oh, _shit.”_ He turns back to the kid, babbling reassurances he’s pretty sure are lies. “Hey kid, just hold still okay, you’re gonna be alright, don’t worry. I’m just gonna bandage you up, getcha down from there…”

Jason may have saved the boy’s soul, but the kid’s way the hell too messed up to recover from those injuries. He had a fuckin’ _knife_ through his goddamn heart; Jason’s blood may be special now, but it probably can’t work miracles.

The boy won’t survive. Not here, so far from any help. Maybe not even back in the Cave, with the whole Coven around them and contributing healing love and life energy to save him.

 _This_ sucks. _I fuckin’ hate this._ Jason blinks back unwelcome tears and looks at the other boy. He might as well help him down, get him lying down and make him as comfortable as possible until…

“Um, thanks,” the kid whispers, looking stunned. He blinks, awareness and a sharp intelligence coming into his blue eyes as he really looks at Jason, probably seeing him clearly for the first time past the veil of pain and exhaustion. “Wait, you’re not a hallucination, are you,” he says, mouth dropping open in shock and wonder. _“Jason?”_

“Hey kid.” Jason slowly removes his hand from the boy’s chest, half expecting him to bleed out before Jason can manage to get him down once he takes the pressure off that terrible wound. He’s actually not sure why the kid’s still conscious or alive at all without the support of the magic, come to think of it.

_Holy shit. Well, damn, that explains it._

He stares at the wound… well, at the spot where the wound _was_.

_Huh. I guess that would be why he’s surprisingly conscious and alert. What the fuck._

“Wow,” the kid says, peering down and examining his own chest. “When you said your blood had healing properties, I was expecting something a little more… subtle?”

They both stare for a long moment at the unbroken pale skin on the kid’s chest. Jason has a creeping feeling that if he reaches out and wipes away the blood, he won’t find an injury anywhere on the boy’s body, which…

Well, it’s good really. Just fuckin’ _weird as hell what the fuck…_

“Uh…” Jason continues staring at the kid, probably looking just as confused and dumbfounded as he feels. “When Talia was experimenting with it, she just put a drop of my blood on a cut, to test it. Took the cut maybe a few hours to heal. Wouldn’t explain anything about why she thought to try that, but I’m pretty sure it must have somethin’ to do with how I came back to life. Not sure what the fuck _this_ is.”

The boy blinks rapidly, then nods his head briskly, apparently deciding to set all his questions about Jason aside for the time being. “Okay. Well, since I’m suddenly feeling shockingly good for having been kidnapped and beat up and kinda lethally stabbed…” Jason winces at the reminder of the boy’s former injuries, wishing he could go back in time and hurt Ra’s some more for doing this to someone. “…Do you think you can get me down now? My arms are starting to hurt.”

They look at each other, and the boy snorts at the sheer ridiculousness of complaining about some sore muscles after the clusterfuck of _oh shit_ he was dealing with up till now.

“Yeah, little buddy. That I can do.” Jason kicks around in the pathetic pile of ashes that used to be Ra’s for a minute, retrieves the keys to the manacles, and then reaches forward with gentle hands to free the smaller boy, assisting him carefully to the ground. “Hey, steady there,” he says as the other boy sways on his feet. “I got you.”

It feels strangely natural to drop his arm around the other kid’s shoulders, and he realizes with a jolt it’s the _link,_ thankfully no longer screaming pain and fear into his mind.

“So…” Jason breathes out slowly, trying to sort through the swirl of conflicting emotions he has toward the slight boy at his side. “You’re my replacement, huh.”

Honestly, Jason should’ve considered the possibility the link he was feeling belonged to this kid, not Dickie. He’d just sensed a member of the Coven in pain and danger nearby; he could tell by the feel the person on the other end of the link was male, and it didn’t come across as mature enough to be Bruce or Alfred, so he’d jumped to the conclusion it was Dick.

But Talia made him all too aware there’s now another young man in the Coven, and Jason really should’ve thought of that.

…Not that it would’ve made any difference, in the end. Resent the kid or not, hate him for taking Jason’s place or not, he’d never leave someone to _that_ fate. Let alone someone as young and innocent as this boy so obviously is, now that Jason’s actually had a chance to meet him.

“Um.” The kid shifts on his feet awkwardly, rubbing some blood off his hand on the loose, white, linen pants that are all he’s wearing, because apparently Ra’s was a huge secret pervert despite not having had working gonads for the past thousand years. “Not really? I mean, I _didn’t_ replace you. It’s not like I joined the Coven to try to fill your place or anything, far from it.”

Jason snorts, feeling vindicated and yet oddly disappointed to have caught the other in a lie. “Bullshit. There’s no fuckin’ way B would’ve taken you in while I was still alive; he only ever trains one apprentice at a time. You’re my fuckin’ replacement, just admit it.”

Tim’s eyes widen, real surprise written on his delicate face. _“Jason._ Wait. Don’t you _remember_ me, Jay? He didn’t _choose_ to make me his apprentice… he took me in because I was _yours.”_ And he blinks up at Jason with those wide blue eyes, sending a chain of memories and realizations tumbling through his mind like dominoes.

“What. No. Wait, what?” Jason shakes his head vigorously, then leans down to stare closely at Tim, examining his every feature as the boy leans back slightly, blushing and uncomfortable with the attention.

_Holy shit it’s Timmy. My little Timmy, who watched me with his huge scary-smart eyes and followed me around like I hung the fuckin’ moon._

_God_ damn, _boy went through one_ hell _of a growth spurt,_ Jason thinks in a mixture of shock and stunned attraction, all his old feelings of caring and friendship for the little boy he knew colliding with his reaction to the, well, sexy as _fuck_ guy standing in front of him.

 _Puberty was real fuckin’ kind to you Timbo, hot_ damn.

“Timmy?!” Jason reaches automatically for his childhood friend, who reaches back with a crooked, _familiar_ grin.

 _Oh,_ now _I see it. He still looks the same when he smiles. Holy fuckin’ shit, Timmy. My Timmy._

“Apparently all those little impromptu magic lessons you gave me when we met up in secret as kids were enough to give us a nascent master-apprentice link, and Bruce sensed it when it reverted to him after you died, so he came to find me,” Tim’s explaining, voice a little muffled by how his face is pressed against Jason’s chest. “He was _really_ surprised by that, and _so_ upset and grieving about losing you, but he offered me a place in the Coven anyway. He figured if I was that important to you, the Coven was where I belonged.”

Tim clutches at him a little tighter. “And we let people assume I’m B’s apprentice, but really I learn from everyone. B, and Dick some, but I’m inclined toward technomancy so lots of my training has been with Babs.” He sighs softly, tilting his head back to meet Jason’s eyes with a soft smile. “You still have your place, Jay.”

 _Ah fuck you Talia, you conniving bitch, how fuckin’ dare you twist everything up so I saw it all_ so fuckin’ _wrong. Holy shit._

As some of the puzzle pieces of the last few years since he’s been gone rearrange themselves in Jason’s mind and click into a new, brighter configuration, his heart lightens so much he feels like he might just float away.

 _I wasn’t replaced. I still have a_ _family. I… have a_ home.

Looking down at the young man clinging to him in his arms, a warm feeling suffuses Jason and he blushes a little at how _good_ Timmy feels, how _right._

Remembering the scene he saw when he came into the chamber, what Ra’s _did_ to Tim, he glares at the little pile of ash wishing he could kill the fucker again. _Wonder if Timmy’ll be offended if I piss on those ashes before we go. Eh, he’ll get over it._

“Hi Jay,” Tim whispers into Jason’s chest, arms around Jason’s shoulders as Jason buries his nose in Tim’s soft, tousled hair and holds him _tight._ “Um. Not to be rude, or seem ungrateful for all this… because I am, I really, _really_ am. And I’m _so_ glad you’re back, I will never stop being grateful for that. But…” He looks up at Jason, raising an inquiring brow. “Why _are_ you alive?”

Jason huffs a laugh, running a hand through his hair and regretfully easing back from the hug. “It’s a long story with lots of question marks, and we shouldn’t stick around here any longer than we have to, besides maybe a quick stop at al Ghul’s library to see if there’s anything on whatever the fuck just happened with that spell. I’ll tell you what I know ‘bout how I came back on the way.” At Tim’s eager nod, Jason takes the other boy’s elbow and guides him toward the door, only pausing to double back and quickly take care of treating Ra’s al Ghul’s remains with exactly as much respect as that asshole deserved.

_Damn that felt good._

Tim’s blinking rapidly and facing the other way, blushing profusely as Jason rejoins him in the hall and they begin moving. “Um. Jason? Did you just…?” The slender boy breaks off, blushing even harder.

Jason grins unabashedly. “Yup.” He’s got nothing to be ashamed of, the fucker _deserved_ it, and more.

“Just checking.” Tim shakes his head in bemusement, then shrugs, stepping carefully over another little ash pile. “So… you, alive again. You were saying?”

*

Tim makes a small, surprised sounding noise and Jason darts a quick glance back at the smaller boy, who’s sprawled on the floor surrounded by creepy old grimoires bound in what looks suspiciously like human skin, studying Ra’s al Ghul’s personal library in search of anything that might explain what happened during that fucked up ritual.

“What,” Jason growls, looking back toward the door untrustingly. There’s no fuckin’ way he’s letting down his guard in this place for even a moment.

Tim bites his lip, looking pensive. “Um, Jason? It looks like instead of just stopping Ra’s from forcing me into a blood oath with him, we might have, well… Accidentally made a blood oath with each other?” He winces.

Seeing Jason’s brows rise in dismay, Tim hurries on. “Because he had already stabbed me with the blade he intended to use as the phylactery to contain my soul, the blood oath had been initiated and _had_ to be completed, one way or another. And, well… somehow, by taking away _his_ blade and putting your hand on me, your blood _in_ me… you switched things around so now _we_ have a blood oath. With each other.” Tim swallows.

Jason pales, harrowing possibilities rising in his mind like specters. “Wait, so the fuckin’ ritual still _worked?_ But you… you’re fuckin’ alive! …Aren’t you?”

He peers at Tim suspiciously. “You aren't some kinda less nasty-looking than usual lich now, are you Timmy?" He eyes Tim as though the smaller boy might go all corpse-like and leathery on him at any moment, then chokes, eyes bulging as another awful realization hits. “Wait does that make me your goddamn _phylactery,_ cause I threw that fuckin’ cursed knife away? Oh fuck this shit is so fucked up…” He shudders. “Did I fuckin’ _steal your goddamn soul_ while tryin’ to _save_ it _,_ Timmy?”

 _Holy shit how the fuck can I even_ start _to fix somethin’ like that…?_

Tim jumps up and grabs Jason's arm, speaking soothingly. “Hey, hey, _no_ , I'm not a lich, you saved me, it's okay Jason… Although, from what I can detect, we're probably… something like… well, soulbound? Sort of. I mean, theoretically based on what I’ve read here, if either of us had magic powers before, we'll _both_ have them now. Um. If it worked the way I think it did.”

The boy grimaces. “Which it totally might not have, because everything I’ve read in these grimoires that might have any bearing on what happened to us is listed under ‘side effects of interrupted ritual’ with warnings like ‘avoid at all costs’ and ‘if you need to know this then it’s already too late for you’.”

He pauses, then continues slowly. “…Which sounds really bad, actually, but when you consider these books are written from the _lich_ point of view, actually those warnings probably mean _good_ things from our perspective.”

Jason scowls. “Wait, Tim, does this make me your fuckin’ _master?_ Cause I'm gonna tell you right now, I am _not_ fuckin comfortable with that shit.”

Tim snorts. “No, we screwed up the ritual enough that the binding between us is equal instead of subsuming my autonomy into slavish devotion to your will.” They both pause briefly to wince and shudder at _that_ thought, knowing just how close they came to Ra’s stealing Tim’s _everything._

“Instead, we’ve most likely got shared powers, shared strength, possibly some shared emotions later on if we choose to encourage it.” Tim shrugs, slamming the grimoire he still has in his hand closed and rubbing his eyes. “Think that’s all I’m gonna get out of these texts.”

“Right.” Jason nods, then reaches out to tug a startled Tim into his side and tuck him close. “Good enough, now let’s get the fuck outta this fucked up place before somethin’ even _worse_ happens to us.”

Even as he says it, Jason winces, wondering what manner of goddamn catastrophe he just called down on them with his careless words.

_Whoops._

*

The rain of darts bursting out of hidden traps in the walls manages to take them _both_ by surprise as the boys rush through a particularly dark, foreboding corridor.

“God fuckin’ _damn_ it!” Jason rages, brushing darts off of himself and Tim with protective concern written all over his unfairly handsome face, and isn’t _that_ insane.

Not only is Tim’s dead best friend and secret childhood crush somehow _alive,_ swooping in to rescue Tim from his terrible doom right in the nick of time in classic fairytale hero style, and magically tied to him at the very soul which kinda sorta makes them soulmates in a way, he’s also _hot as hell._

 _Ugh, not the time for this. Think about Jason’s miraculous alive-ness and glorious thick thighs_ later, _once he’s not at risk of_ dying again _oh god…_

Tim examines one of the little projectiles carefully, hoping he’s wrong, then grows pale as the subtle sheen on the tip confirms his suspicions. “Jason, these darts are _poisoned.”_

Jason blanches. “Shit, Timmy, you feeling sick?” He quickly scans Tim for signs of illness, worried blue eyes darting up and down Tim’s body, then exclaims in horror when Tim brings the dart to his mouth and licks the point to verify which poison it is.

 _Damn it Jay, just stand back and let me work!_ I’m _not the one in peril here!_

Tim shakes his head impatiently as Jason pries the dart out of his hand and throws it aside. He reaches out to gently touch Jason's forehead and then closely examining his eyes, ignoring his concerned sputtering. “I don't understand,” Tim breathes. “That poison should have killed you almost instantly _,_ but you seem totally fine!”

Jason's brows shoot up. “Wait a goddamn minute, Timmy, _you_ got hit with that poison too! Not to mention fuckin’ _licking more of it off the dart what the fuck._ And of the two of us, you're not the one who came back from the fuckin’ _dead_ with freaky unexplained healing powers, so _you're_ the one I'm gonna worry about.”

Tim rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Jay, my mother is one of Rappaccini’s daughters. I'm immune to all poisons, courtesy my stint in her toxic uterus and the occasional time she was around during my childhood.”

He winces slightly, remembering the loneliness of his childhood, broken only by following and watching the members of the Wayne Coven on both their legitimate public exploits and the more clandestine but always heroic activities in which they engaged in secret, serving justice and righting wrongs amidst the magical community when regular channels failed.

Jason gapes, then frowns, tilting his head in consideration. “Wait, does that have anything to do with why your folks were always gone when we were kids?” His gaze softens.

Tim sighs, nodding with a wry little smile and a half shrug. “There's still a stigma associated with being a Rappaccini’s daughter, it’s why I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about it, even _you_. People get so unnecessarily _upset_ when they find out they're being slowly poisoned every moment they spend in someone's presence.”

He scoffs, then runs a hand through his hair, smiling sadly. “Mother wanted to minimize the time she spent around me in hopes I wouldn't develop my own toxicity through constantly being infused with her natural poisons.” He shrugs. “It worked; I'm just immune to poisons, not actually toxic myself, but I still wish I could see Mom and Dad more. Skype is only good for so much.”

“Huh. That… sucks balls, Timbo.” Jason looks sorrowful for Tim’s sake, which is dumb because _he’s_ the real reason Tim’s childhood wasn’t the isolated, lonesome place it might have been. It was Jason’s decision to befriend the little stalker he caught chasing after his Coven instead of turning him in that gave Tim the very best memories of his young life.

_I can’t believe he’s really back…_

Tim tilts his head, carefully observing the taller boy who is still showing no signs of being affected by the deadly poison that’s been injected into his body. _Thank the gods._ “On the bright side, the fact you aren't writhing in pain on the floor right now probably means the blood oath took the way I'm thinking it did. You’re poison-resistant too now.” He brightens. “Hey, that means you can meet my parents someday!”

Jason’s eyes widen and he begins to blush for some reason. Tim ignores him, thinking about the mystery of their blood oath.

 _If my powers of poison resistance transferred to Jason during the ritual, I wonder if_ his _powers… hmm. Easy way to find out._

And Tim drags one of the sharp darts along the inside of his wrist, watching dispassionately as a fine line of blood forms behind it.

Jason’s hand shoots out and grabs the dart, tossing it away as he cradles Tim’s arm and inspects the injury. “Damn it, Tim, what are you—” He cuts off abruptly and watches in shock as Tim's skin closes up like the wound had never been.

“Just as I suspected,” Tim says with satisfaction. “I now share your mysterious healing powers!” He feels himself getting what is probably a slightly manic look in his eyes as he thinks about testing the limits of his new healing factor, and then snorts when he sees Jason slowly raising his brows while staring at Tim, and surreptitiously edging nearby weapons out of Tim’s reach.

“No more fuckin’ experiments till we’re somewhere safe,” Jason growls, still watching Tim mistrustfully.

Tim rolls his eyes, capitulating with a pout. _“Fine.”_ He’s _definitely_ planning more exciting experiments to determine the exact nature and limitations of the powers conferred upon them both by the screwed up blood oath magic they brought down on themselves when Jason interrupted the lich’s spell. It’s _fascinating,_ something entirely new to explore and learn about.

 _Although maybe it_ is _better to wait till we’re back at the Cave anyway, so the others can help; it’ll be useful to have Babs recording and analyzing the results with her technomancy. And have Cass on hand in case healing is necessary… And Alfred will be there to bring us tea and cookies and coffee and_ oh god _I could go for some coffee right now…_

“I can see you thinkin’, Timmy.” Jason’s watching Tim with a faint, deeply fond smile that brings a warm tightness to Tim’s belly and makes him blush for some reason. “Life ain’t gonna be boring with _you_ around, that’s for damn sure.” And he bumps shoulders with Tim, catching his hand and holding it. “C’mon, darlin’, we’re almost out. Think we’re anywhere near Gotham? I want a fuckin’ chili dog.”

Tim snorts, grinning at the reminder of his oldest friend’s favorite food. “No idea. But I’d be down for that, as long as we stop at a coffee shop too.”

Jason squeezes his hand, returning his grin slowly. “I think that can be arranged.”

And they begin carefully making their way again through the seemingly infinite corridors and halls, stepping carefully past the pathetic little piles of ash that mark all that’s left of Ra’s al Ghul’s former lich army and searching for the exit.

Tim rolls his eyes when Jason insists on searching each ash pile and pockets the cash and weapons he finds.

_Well, now I guess we’ll have money for coffee and chili dogs. Best first date ever!_

*

“What _now?”_ Jason groans, glaring at the latest obstacle in their escape. His glare fades a bit when he has to look down to see their challenger. It disappears entirely when he realizes the person who jumped out in front of them dual-wielding a pair of sharp, flashing katana with a loud battle cry is _a small child what the fuck._

Tim immediately throws up his empty hands in a soothing gesture, obviously just as squeamish about fighting a child even in self-defense as Jason is. “Hey there, we _really_ don’t want to hurt you, so can you please calm down so we can talk?”

Jason sighs, lowering the arsenal of weapons he’s raided off the numerous piles of pathetic lich remains they’ve passed during their increasingly confused wanderings through this maze-like hellhole. “That’s right, kid. Ain’t gonna fuckin’ hurt you, so calm it the fuck down.” Tim face palms at his words for some reason.

The tiny little imp stares at them, fear poorly hidden beneath his scowl, cute little fangs bared in threat. “Get back!” He cries warningly, small hands clenched into fists. “Mother will return soon, and she will not have mercy on any who harm me—” He breaks off as he gets a better look at them, blinking in apparent surprise and confusion. “Wait… _Brother?_ And… the imposter?” His eyes flick dismissively to Tim for a moment before returning to fasten on Jason’s face.

Jason blinks. _What the fuck._ Beside him, Tim sucks in a breath and elbows him in the gut.

 _Fuckin’_ ow, _Timmy what the fuck!_ Jason directs a betrayed glare at Tim, who rolls his eyes like Jason’s being a dumbass.

 _“Jay!_ Look at his face!” Tim jerks his head toward the brat, then looks at Jason expectantly.

Jason glowers and complies, looking past the tiny little horns curled against the brat’s dark head to study his scowling, angry-looking face, now forming a glare which looks suspiciously _familiar holy shit that's Bruce's kid isn't it._

Huh.

 _Damn B,_ Talia? _Really?_

Jason clears his throat, setting _that_ realization aside to deal with later. _Or maybe never, gross_. “Wow. Okay, so you seem to know who we are. What's your name, kid?”

“Damian.” The boy narrows his eyes at Jason.

“Hey Damian. Your uh, mom around?” Jason asks carefully, not knowing how to ask a small child if he just witnessed his mom turn to ash in front of him.

_Fuck, please don’t make me feel bad about killing all those fuckin’ liches…_

“Mother had to return to hell when the backlash from Grandfather's spell began to target those carrying his magic. She will gather strength there for some time before returning to this world.” The little boy is still scowling, but there's a slightly forlorn air about him now. Which makes sense, considering he’s apparently all alone here in this eerie place.

_Fuck._

Tim bites his lip, then speaks slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully to avoid upsetting the brat. “Um, about how long will that take her? We don't want to leave you here alone, but if she'll be a while we might need to take you with us. This place isn't going to be safe for long.” Tim glances at a shadow which just moved, eying it suspiciously before apparently deeming it safe for the time being.

_Jesus._

“No more than a few years,” the boy says, crossing his arms defensively. He glares at them, biting his lip, eyes suspiciously bright and tiny fists clenched. “She would be back sooner were it possible! But there was too much of Grandfather's magic in her to stay, on account of the method of her creation.”

_Fuckin’ gross. Why do I feel like everything this kid’s about to say is things I don’t wanna know…_

The kid pouts. “Even with a summoned demon for a partner, the act of siring a child is extremely magically intensive for a lich and involves a tremendous amount of power, much of which remained sealed within Mother to this day. She had to divest herself rapidly of all Grandfather’s residual magic within herself so the spell backfiring would not take her as well, and as such no longer had the strength to maintain her presence here beyond the Gate.”

Jason and Tim both wince at the thought of whatever fucked up dark magic Ra’s indulged in to make Talia. A lich isn’t _supposed_ to be able to breed; after all, they’re _dead._ Talia’s creation was almost certainly steeped in dark magic, blood sacrifice, and other arcane sorcery, and according to Bruce’s notes resulted in the complete destruction of a small city as well as the unfortunate demoness unlucky enough to have caught Ra’s al Ghul’s attention and be deemed worthy to breed his child.

 _I’m never gonna regret my part in that asshole’s death. Just wish I coulda made it hurt even_ more.

“But weren't you at risk as well? You must have some connection to his power too, through your blood if nothing else.” Tim is frowning.

The boy shakes his head, dark little horns reflecting flashes of light as he moves, the corners of his sullen little mouth tilting down. “Mother made sure none of the lich power touched me in the womb; it was within her ability, and she wished for me to be shielded somewhat from Grandfather's reach.”

Well, that sounds exactly like Talia. Always with a plan, playing whatever side suits her at the moment and leaving herself escape routes even from her supposed allies. “So kid, you seem to be in the know on some shit. Got any idea what the _hell_ your mom was up to with keepin’ me around?”

The boy’s eyes flick from Jason to Tim and then narrow. “Mother wished to set you against the imposter prior to sending me to Gotham to live with Father, in order to clear the way so I could become Father’s apprentice.”

Tim gapes, and Jason snorts, rubbing a hand across his face. _Fuckin’ perfect._

Well, that's pretty fuckin shitty but it makes sense in a crazy way. So all the discussions with Talia and her careful, controlled sharing of information with Jason were apparently set up to put a target on Tim's back, and aim Jason right at it. “So she wanted me and Timmy to fight to the death, get both of us outta the way for you—”

The kid’s looking at him like he's gone insane. _“What?_ No, you fool; of course not! Mother is fond of you and would never send you to your death without good cause. You were simply to slay the imposter.”

Now Tim looks slightly offended. “She was that sure I would lose?”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Of course you would, Drake; Todd is part _phoenix_ and you a mere baseline human with some modicum of magical talent. Even if you managed to best him, he would simply return to life and come after you again.” He seems to notice their shocked stares and trails off. “What? Why are you fools gaping at me so?” He rears back, eying them defensively.

“Go back to the part where you explain how I'm a _fuckin’ phoenix what the fuck,”_ Jason answers hoarsely.

Damian scoffs. “How could I explain _that?_ I know not which of your peon ancestors managed to seduce a wayward phoenix, thus introducing those powers to your bloodline, diluted though they were and entirely masked until Grandfather obtained your corpse and attempted to raise it for a foot soldier in his army, thinking to use it to haunt and terrorize your Coven.”

Tim's shaking beside him, and it takes Jason a moment to realize the smaller boy's laughing _. “Oh my_ _god,_ you're a phoenix, Jason. Ra's tried to raise a _phoenix_ with the power of _death._ Oh my _god._ No _wonder_ everything in the ritual went to hell.”

Jason's a little annoyed because he's not really seeing what's so damn funny. “What're you laughing about, Timbo? Share with the fuckin’ class.”

Tim grins at him, an expression of merriment on his face. “Phoenix magic isn't just based on life, it _is_ life. Anyone trying to use death magic on one is… Well. It’s not likely to turn out well for the caster, let’s just leave it at that.”

“The lesser general whom Grandfather assigned to perform the original ritual to raise Todd caught fire and was turned to ash when Todd’s heretofore unknown magic activated during the ceremony and the room was engulfed in the flames of his rebirth. Todd caught fire as well, but when the flames dwindled, he lay there restored to life and health, merely unconscious. Grandfather washed his hands of him once it was demonstrated he could not control him by means of his magic, and Mother decided to make use of him in her way.”

_Holy shit._

_I'm a motherfucking phoenix, god_ damn.

“So… that's definitely why the ceremony went so wrong earlier. Jason's life magic plus lich death magic equals _massive_ destruction, aimed at the dark magic connected with the spell.” Tim’s voice is awed.

“And since _Ra’s_ was actually within the fuckin’ circle himself this time…” Jason’s voice trails off as he follows up on Tim’s statement.

“It got him too.” Tim smirks.

Jason huffs a laugh, dragging a hand through his already-tousled hair. “Along with every poor, evil bastard connected to his magic.”

“…Huh. Jay, I think we accidentally destroyed the entire League of Shadows.” Tim blinks, looking a little overwhelmed, so Jason throws a reassuring arm around his slim shoulders.

 _Huh, he really is the perfect height. Damn._ Jason nuzzles Tim’s soft hair for a moment as the other boy relaxes into his side. “Eh, just the lich part. The undead generals and mindless zombie hordes. There's still a shitload of assassins and stuff who probably were tied to Ra’s by money and loyalty, not magic.”

Tim nods, then tilts his head to look up at Jason. “Well, I don't regret it. And B can't very well blame us for an accident that was outside our control.”

He still looks a little nervous though, so Jason rubs his back gently. “It ain’t like either of us had any choice, Timmy. He'll understand; if not, I'll _make_ him.”

A thought occurs to him and he groans. “Wait, so Talia was grooming me to kill Timmy to get him outta the way for her brat, and then Ra’s went and _captured_ Tim to make him a higher level lich… Which woulda given that wizened old shit the power to _make_ Timmy tell him everything he knows about the Coven, and probably wipe them out.”

He swallows, some motivations falling into place in his mind with the information the little imp’s given them. “I think Talia left my door unlocked on purpose today.”

Tim's eyes widen, and Damian blinks, little brows drawing together in a very Bruce-like frown. “I do not know,” the kid says in a small voice. “Mother loves Father in her own way and would do much to protect him. And… I know she feared what Grandfather eventually planned to do to _me.”_ He swallows, blinking rapidly, little mouth tightening, and Jason realizes to his dismay the kid’s fighting tears.

“Hey, that's enough of that,” Jason says, roughly comforting. “Let’s get you home to your dad, yeah kiddo?”

The little boy scrubs at his eyes, embarrassed. “But you have not yet slain the imposter! You must do so, that I may claim my rightful place in the Coven!”

Tim makes an adorably bitchy face at that. “I am sick and _tired_ of all you guys assuming I'm in _your_ place in the Coven! I'm _me!_ You're both _yourselves!_ We each get our _own damn_ spot, why is this so difficult to understand?!”

Jason twitches guiltily, and Damian’s brow furrows. “Are you _certain_ Father will accept me despite the blight of your continued existence?”

Tim face palms so Jason answers. “Yeah, kid. Actually, your dad has a strict no killing policy, so best get used to _that.”_

Damian tilts his head in cute bewilderment, tiny fangs biting his bottom lip. “It is very strange, but I suppose I shall become accustomed to it.” He nods decisively. “Mother likely did not realize how vastly Father's system differs from Grandfather’s. Thank you for imparting this knowledge to me, Brother.”

He turns to regard Tim with a ridiculously serious expression on his vivid little face. “I am pleased we did not take your life in error, Lesser Brother.”

As Tim sputters, the tiny half demon spins on his heel and begins striding away. “Come, brothers! We should make haste to leave this place before the hell beasts arrive. Now that Grandfather no longer holds their leash, they will likely be quite restive.”

The shadows in the corners twitch ominously as the brat speaks, causing Jason’s eyes to widen in dread. He grabs Timmy by the hand and tosses the kid over his shoulder with the other despite the brat’s viciously protesting little growls and attempts to claw his way free. Jason ignores it all so he can _run,_ following the directions the tiny, fierce baby demon snarls into his ear.

Even as he’s putting all his considerable strength and speed into getting them the fuck _outta_ this goddamn deathtrap, he can’t help but notice the adorable little goddamn _tail_ the baby demon is sporting, which switches back and forth in dismay and bats ineffectually at Jason’s face before wrapping tightly around his shoulder like a monkey clinging to the branch of a tree.

It’s unreasonably charming and cute.

_Aww._

_Jesus_ fuck, _this little shit’s gonna be a fun addition to the family. Can’t wait to see B’s face when he meets him. I hope the kid fuckin’ bites him, isn’t that how baby demons show affection? God this is gonna be fuckin’_ hilarious _._

“We’re still on for coffee and chili dogs after this, right Timbo?” Jason could _really_ go for a chili dog right now.

At his side, he hears Tim huff a soft little laugh and follows the smaller boy’s gaze, out through the door in front of them and into what Jason’s stunned and relieved to recognize as the outskirts of Gotham.

He can see two coffee shops, an in-progress drug deal, three pixies teaming up to mug a pimp, and _oh fuck yeah_ a chili dog stand. Jason presses a shaky kiss to Tim’s hair and Tim twists around to throw his arms around Jason and kiss him back, full on the lips, sparking a thrill of heat and passion in his body and igniting something deep and joyful and so, so wonderful in his heart.

_Oh fuck. Yes, GOD yes… TIM._

Jason _really_ doesn’t want to stop, but he’s dimly aware of Damian kicking to be put down and escaping from his hold so with a reluctant final press of lips he releases Tim.

“What is this _chili dog?_ It sounds disgusting.” Damian’s scornful tone reminds Tim of his presence, and he pulls back to meet Jason’s eyes, a mischievous grin lighting up his pretty, delicate face.

Jason grins, turning to his new little brother and tousling his hair, ignoring the brat’s sputtering growls and attempts to fend him off with his tiny but fuckin’ _sharp_ little claws. “Oh, kid. You’re in for a fuckin’ _treat.”_

As the trio follow the delicious scents to their source, Jason feels his broken links finally click back into place and senses shock and hesitant but growing joy as the Coven members notice them and begin rapidly converging on their position. _Huh. Guess the muted links thing was just somethin’ to do with bein’ in Ra’s al Ghul’s fuckin’ lair, not me being broken after all._

“They’re coming,” Tim whispers, smiling with happiness and relief as he, too, senses their family.

Jason’s smile softens. “Looks like we’re gonna have company real soon here. Guess we better buy a fuckin’ shitload of coffee and chili dogs.” He drapes an arm over Timmy’s shoulders and corrals Damian with his other hand, careful to avoid the little imp’s snapping teeth. “Good thing I got cash!”

And he grins, enjoying the thought of buying dinner for his entire Coven at Ra’s al Ghul’s expense as one final, pointed _fuck you_ to the leathery old bastard.

Tim snorts, but smiles back as they walk down the grimy Gotham street toward the bright lights of the nearest coffee shop. They don’t attract any stares, despite Tim’s half-naked, slightly bloodstained state, Damian’s feral snarling at passerby who wander too near, and Jason’s bristling weaponry. This _is_ Gotham, after all.

_It’s so fuckin’ good to be home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, sneering and growling:** “I hate my Coven! Those assholes REPLACED me, they can all suck a cock and DIE!” *Repeatedly shoots effigies of Batfam, plans their brutal deaths*  
>  **Talia, manipulating like a boss:** “Oh hey don’t look now but your Coven’s in danger” *Struts back to hell, leaving trail of scorched earth behind her* “My work here is done”  
>  **Jason, forgetting everything he just said:** “OH JESUS GOD DICKIE I SWEAR I’LL SAVE YOU” *Runs to the rescue, gathering weaponry and tearing through lich army*  
>  **Tim, dying:** “Wait JASON?! Welp if I'm seeing your ghost I guess I'm dead and my terrible suffering is at an end!” *Stares down at giant dagger embedded in chest* “Wait this fucking sucks it still hurts wtf”  
>  **Jason, furious and protective:** “How DARE you HURT TIMMY?!” *Somehow manages to destroy Ra’s and entire lich army, insists on peeing on every single pile of ashes resulting from their destruction*  
>  **Tim, batting heart-eyes at Jason:** “My hero! Let’s consummate our love!” *Grabs Jason by the thighs, begins to initiate consummation*  
>  **Damian, popping out of nowhere and peering curiously at their activities:** “Brothers! Tell me what you are doing that I may assist you!”  
>  **Tim and Jason, with wilting boners:** “Oh hey kid. Uh, guess we’ll take you to your dad” *Hide disappointment and unmentionables, take kid and escape supervillain lair*  
>  **Damian, wrinkling tiny little nose adorably:** “What is that hideous STENCH, it is terrible!” *Gags visibly*  
>  **Jason, brightening:** “Mmm, chili dogs!” *Drags Tim and Damian over to stand, consumes own body weight in chili dogs*  
>  **Tim, sipping third coffee:** “I love you Jay” *Stands on tiptoes to press kiss to Jason’s chili dog-scented lips*  
>  **Jason, beaming:** “Love you too, Timmy!” *Buys Tim fourth coffee*  
>  **Damian, gagging in disgust:** “You two are intolerable! If you continue with this disturbing display I shall—” *Breaks off as Jason jams chili dog in his mouth, slowly chews. Attempts to hide smile*  
> *  
> Wow. This is the first time I've tried writing for prompts or taken part in anything like this, and it's been pretty amazing. Participating in Jaytim Week has been intense, challenging, and lots of fun! Huge thanks to the hardworking mods over on Jaytim Week for putting this all together! 
> 
> Thank you so much to all those who have read these stories, and a special thanks to everyone who gave kudos or commented. Your support and feedback is a major part of what inspires me to write and share my work. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the stories, and thanks again for reading!


End file.
